


A Matter of Providence

by cultureandseptember



Series: A Matter of ... Series [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, This was for fun because my readers liked the pairing.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultureandseptember/pseuds/cultureandseptember
Summary: Dr. Michelle Daniels had no idea how being in the Marvel Universe, particularly a Marvel Universe where Nations are personified, would affect her life.In 1941, Michelle meets Bucky Barnes in a diner.Then, seventy years later, she meets him again.





	1. 1941

It’d been a terrible day. Peter Carothers and Michael Ridebank were getting more and more belligerent with each class meeting. One day, they would likely find themselves on the battlefield with incoming bullets and an actual threat to their existence. At sixteen, both boys were fortifying themselves in the desks at the back of the class, digging their heels in with each and every assignment that was passed their way. Any sheets of paper (important or otherwise) were turned into ammunition and sent flying in the form of spit balls toward the front of the classroom. Toward me.

It was all I could do to keep order in the class, with the two of them taking every opportunity to challenge my authority. They were pranksters, young and restless. In the twenty-first century, they would have done well—multimedia would have benefited them greatly. However, I was limited to my time—rather, this time. November, 1940. With Peter’s brother already enlisted and Michael’s father desperate for an heir to the family business, they both had some terrible pressures upon them.

That didn’t change the fact that they irritated the ever-loving  _everything_  out of me.

There were only twelve students in my class: four boys, eight girls. And the girls were a whole different issue altogether. Some were too shy to speak, sporting bruises that could only be caused by closed fists. Some were loud and brash and outspoken, but who were also the breadwinners of their parent-less households. I wished I could spare more time to help each of my students, but with the impending war and the weight of history and the constant nightmares…I wasn’t in much of a position to help anybody, much less a group of young adults struggling to find themselves.

I sighed, shaking my head. My eyes skittered toward the clock on the wall above the counter. A quarter past four. Johnny was late. Late enough that I would find it within myself to complain, regardless of his kindness since June. Trying to ignore the frustration in my chest, I glanced toward the man eyeing me behind the tiled counter.

“Not trying to rush you, Miss.” He gestured toward the pie display and grinned, white teeth contrasting with his dark Greek skin. His accent was more than enough indication of his heritage. “Since your company is late, wanna try a slice? Made fresh this morning!”

“Might as well.” I shrugged and set to removing my heavy brown wool coat. As November rolled into the region, it brought stark winds and overcast skies. Brooklyn was chilled to the bone. “A slice of apple, please. And a cup of coffee?” He gave me a nod and a smile before walking off to get the items. I grabbed my purse, bag, and coat and settled myself in a more comfortable booth nearby, pulling a file from the bag and retrieving a red pen. Before the coffee arrived, I had already buried myself in the familiarity of grading. It was the only thing I had of my old world at the moment.

I was halfway through my pie and coffee when the bell above the diner door jangled and two young men walked in. I barely paid them any mind other than a quick glance. I returned to my work, noting that Peter had vastly improved in his work compared to Michael. It seemed at least one of them was willing to try, despite all appearances otherwise. I brushed my hair behind my ear and sighed, looking toward the clock. John was now  _an hour_  late. I could only imagine what had kept him this time. Maybe he had taken off for Washington again? If that was so, he could have somehow let me know. John was still learning with this whole roommate business, but it was at least courtesy. It’d only been a couple weeks since my meltdown at the theatre. I couldn’t expect everything to get better instantly.

“What’s a pretty dame like you doing all by your lonesome? Are—Are you grading papers?”

My heart lurched into my throat as my attention snapped upward and to my left. Standing at my shoulder was a man no older than me, a confused look on his face as he peered down at my marked papers. I felt my mouth work, but I couldn’t quite achieve a sound retort. He reached down, bold as anything, and turned the top paper to his direction so that he could read the first lines. His smile lowered into a devious smirk as his attention flickered to me, dark eyes sparkling.

“That’s a double negative in the first sentence. Well, it looks like Michael has earned your ire, Miss…” He looked at the paper again when I didn’t answer, leaning down a bit as if to read the handwriting. “Daniels.” He looked to me. “Got a first name to go with that, sweetheart?”

“M-Michelle,” I choked out. I finally found myself, centering my thoughts instead on the fact that his friend was much smaller and standing just a few feet away, looking mighty uncomfortable. His hands were shoved so deep in his pockets, I thought he might actually fold into himself. That was all the reality I needed to snap out of my shock and return the man’s smile as best I could. “Michelle Daniels.” Reaching forward, I slipped the paper from under his fingers and aligned it with the rest of the papers before hiding them in their folder again.

“Michelle Daniels, huh?” He tested the name out with a grin. “So, Michelle, want some company?” Seeing the way I was leaning slightly away, he took a step back and offered his hand. “The name’s James Barnes. Most of my friends just call me Bucky.” He took a couple large steps backward and, as if predicting his friend’s position, he threw his arm out when he arrived at the little guy’s shoulder. “And this is Steve. We’re really not the types to let a pretty dame eat alone.” He really thought all the dame talk was flattering didn’t he? I looked to the clock again, but he noticed the action. “Waiting for a date?”

“Waiting for a friend.” I glanced toward Steve and smiled slightly, a gesture he hesitantly returned. “Is he usually so forward?”

For his part, Steve looked a bit surprised at being addressed directly. He shifted and shrugged his bony shoulders. “Only always.”

Letting out a sigh through my nose, I gestured toward the empty chairs at the opposite side of the table. “It looks like my friend’s unforgivably late and my students don’t deserve my anger right now. I’m not exactly from this neighborhood either, so I was hoping my friend could help me order the good stuff.”

“The hash is good,” Steve offered as Bucky practically threw him into a seat. The look he shot his friend was nothing short of scathing.

“Whereabouts are you from then? Heaven?” I snorted at the sheer lameness of the pickup and did him the courtesy of ignoring it. I actually laughed, though it was a bit uncertain. He noticed the roll of my eyes though. Though I felt a little uncomfortable with the approach, the presence of Bucky’s friend was easing my nerves. Besides, with the way the lines were being delivered it almost felt more like kind flirting than anything pursuing romance. It was almost like he was playing. I couldn’t be sure though. “I’m betting down south.”

“I still have the accent then? I’ve been trying to hide it.” How I missed running my hands through my hair! The waves would fall if I so much as petted my hair. “Nashville. You both from here?”

“Brooklyn, born and raised.” Bucky nodded and sat back in his chair, throwing up a hand in greeting toward the Greek man behind the counter. “Three hash, Gio. Coffee, Steve? Two coffees. And put her stuff on my tab.” I felt my brows jump to my hairline. I was not used to this. Since I had arrived in June, there had been no attempts at flirtation and I was hardly the relationship type when I was back in the twenty-first century. For a moment, I felt my hackles rise. I could pay for my own meal. I could order my own food. And I could most definitely do without condescension of any kind. I got enough of that at the school. I noticed that Steve was eyeing me warily, obviously keyed into the fact that Bucky’s forwardness had irritated me. He didn’t look comfortable enough to say anything though and he looked out of the window to avoid the confrontation.

Lips pursing, I leaned back in my seat. “I—” I stopped for a moment when the handsome man turned back my direction. Feeling a bit flustered, I looked at the top of my folder and splayed my hands along the table. It was a nice enough distraction from the usual nightmare—the school, the future, the loneliness. For a moment, it almost felt normal. What could it hurt, really? “Do you buy dinner like this for any woman who sits alone?”

“Only the pretty ones,” Bucky returned easily. Steve snorted and I felt a smile pull at my lips. He was quick, I’d give him that. “A dame should never be left alone like that. Call it chivalry.” When I didn’t respond and instead focused on putting the folder back into my bag, he gestured toward me with a serious expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he looked to Steve. There was a silent conversation between the two, with Bucky jerking his head in my direction while Steve just stared. After a moment, the former sighed. “So, who’s this friend of yours? Another lovely lady like yourself?”

“You’re laying it on too thick,” I responded as three plates of hash were placed on the table by a humming Gio. He gave me a questioning look, almost as if asking me if the two were bothering me. My head shook and I gave a slight smile. If these guys came in as often as I thought they did, then he likely knew that James Barnes was a Class A flirt. I found myself actually reverting back a bit into my younger self, forgetting for a moment where I was. “Next thing you know, you’ll be saying that my eyes sparkle like the stars.” Steve started to choke on his potatoes.

“But your eyes  _do_  sparkle like the stars,” Barnes said in a silky voice that held no falseness. I nearly fell out of my chair, heat climbing up my neck. I didn’t expect that. I was just being sarcastic. He laughed, the sound seeming to make his friend more comfortable. I couldn’t quite understand why my stomach was flipping at the sound. No, this was not good. Not good at all. I didn’t have time for this. Not with—No. My expression must have hardened because his face became a bit concerned for a moment before he quickly hid it. “So, not a dame that you’re meeting then? A fella?”

“Actually, I’m meeting my friend—Johnny. We were supposed to grab dinner. I guess something came up.”

“So, uh—Are you sweet on this…Johnny No Good?”

Steve sent an elbow into his friend’s stomach. “Knock it off, Bucky.”

“No, it’s not like that.” I didn’t even bat an eye. “John and I don’t see each other that way.”

“Hard to believe since you’re so beautiful." 

"You’re just trying to make me blush,” I observed as calmly as I could.

“Consider it a life goal.” Steve snorted, shaking his head. 

“And I’m girl number…six hundred and something?” Bucky actually seemed to falter for a moment, surprised by my rejoinder, then he grinned.

“Honestly, you could be my number one girl, if you wanted.”

“Sorry about that, doll face! I got caught up in a meeting, couldn’t get out. Look who I brought!”

I nearly choked on my coffee. My heart sank to my shoes. Spinning in my seat, I saw two figures barreling down the diner car. Johnny was at the front, practically throwing people out of the way to get to where I sat. I felt a nervous energy claw at my gut and my heart stutter a bit in my chest. I instead focused on the figure behind Johnny. Alfred was grinning from ear to ear, peeling his bomber jacket off as he strode behind the State. John was about halfway down the diner car when I turned back to the two across from me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t tell me you’re angry ‘cause I got you a surprise to make up for it!”

“ _This_  is your friend?” Bucky questioned with curiosity alighting his eyes. There was something else there though because I saw Steve sit a bit straighter. I almost missed the way he sat down his fork and slipped his hands below the table. His gaze shot to Bucky’s. “Bit loud, isn’t he? For a quiet dame like you, I mean.”

John was standing by the table a moment later, fedora in his hand. “Glad you’re still here,  _doll face_. Wasn’t too long ago when you would’ve split.” He looked between my tablemates and me, lips pressing into a thin line before he held out his hand Barnes. “John J. Jones, and you are?”

Alfred came up behind him, nudging my shoulder in an indication that I needed to scoot over. I didn’t have much of a chance to inch toward the window before Al pushed himself onto the seat. As if steadying himself, he threw an arm over the back of the seat behind me. I was barely able to save my school bag from behind crushed and I quickly shifted my stuff to the floor beside my legs. I was more than used to America’s antics. Across from me, Steve’s eyes narrowed a bit.

“Bucky Barnes.” There was a handshake and no one made a move to get up. “Michelle was just about to tell us about you. Said you were supposed to meet her hours ago. I got a saying, ‘Never make a woman wait.’” His attention flashed to me and he winked, a smirk pulling at his features.

“Brooklyn?” New York’s question was directed to Steve, even if he didn’t know the guy’s name yet. Steve nodded, sending me a strange look. I just gave a long-suffering sigh and glanced out of the window into the dark night. There was something irritatingly familiar boiling in my stomach, a sensation I hadn’t had since Corey had ruined my homecoming dance sophomore year. Or the time Jessie ran off my date for prom. Disappointment. “And you two just approach any random dame without a date?” The feeling that slid from my shoulders to my back was something close to rage.

“John–”

“No,” Steve spoke up. His voice was deeper than I’d have imagined. “Where we come from, you show women respect. Like showing up on time. Regardless if it’s a date or not.” I found some irony in the ‘where we come from’ part and it seemed that wasn’t lost on New York because a smirk pulled at his lips. That only seemed to get Steve more fired up, a sort of righteous anger entering his feature. “And pushing her around after you’ve shown up two hours late? I’m not impressed.”

Bucky grinned, crossing his arms as he sat back. I felt the arm sitting on the seat behind me fall to my shoulders. The dark-haired man’s grin lessened. Alfred gave a raucous laugh, practically vibrating the entire diner. He kicked his leg out to tap the back of John’s knee, sending him toppling for a moment. “And you say I’ve got a hero complex, Johnny!” His attention turned to Steve and he held up both hands in surrender. “Dude, I get that you’re trying to help and all, but we’re just looking out for her. Late or not. Shelly’s like family.” His attention turned toward Bucky. “Get what I’m saying?”

“Loud and clear.” There was a moment when everyone was quiet, sort of a Mexican stand-off of male egos. My heat shook, brows pulling together as it seemed that with each passing second the smallest of the group was winning the fight. Steve was not backing down and that was unsettling for the sheer stubbornness of New York and America. It was actually rather impressive, consider Bucky had grown bored of the whole thing and had pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and seemed to be jotting down a note.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” I wished I had a shell to crawl into when that escaped my mouth. Both hands rose and I placed them over my lips, surprised at my own gumption. With it already out, I decided to just go with it as best I could. John rocked back on his heels, clearly trying to hide behind Alfred. “You could have given me warning. I could have gotten so much grading done at home.”

“Grading? But— Alright. Geez. Look what happened, Alfred! You got me in trouble! She’s got that look again.” Alfred just laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he shoveled the rest of my pie into his mouth. “This is all your fault. If you’d just listened to me about the flowers then—”

“Michelle.” I turned to see Bucky sliding a slip of paper toward me through the drinks and plates. Steve was already standing, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. He was still scowling, obviously not pleased to be leaving so soon. I gave him a questioning look and he just looked more irritated. Bucky smiled, heart-breakingly handsome, and I could finally understand the girls that swooned at the sight of men. Lord help me. I did not need this now. “This is my address. Feel free to look me up if you need me…or if you need a friend.” His jab at John didn’t go overlooked as he gave me a another wink and a smirk.

“Night, ma'am. Let Bucky know if you need anything.” Steve walked behind Barnes, stopping momentarily at Johnny’s shoulder to say something before departing after his buddy.

“Well, that was fun.” Johnny sighed, falling into Bucky’s empty chair. He gave me a perplexed look over the remaining hash. It was almost as if he were considering some sort of life-altering question with the way his eyes raked over my face. I couldn’t quite say what he was looking for, but he must not have found it before he shrugged. “The shortie was intimidating.”

“I liked him,” Alfred smiled. I surreptitiously pulled the piece of paper into my hand, not wanting to gain their attention. “What’d he say to you, Johnny? Threaten to kick your tail?”

New York snorted, shaking his head. “Told me to meet him in the alley behind Gino’s in ten.”

America’s arm still rested around my shoulder and I glanced down to the piece of paper in my hand.

_Your eyes really do sparkle._

I felt my lips pull up into a smile and I knew that Alfred and Johnny were watching. There was an address, as if I would write to him or chase him down. Maybe it was meant as an escape. I don’t know. My stomach was dancing with butterflies one moment and then sinking with dread the next. Slowly, my hand tightened into a fist and the paper crumpled beneath my fingers.

No matter how my heart was sputtering, I couldn’t—I was never meant for flirtatious words and romance, especially not now and not anymore. Not after—I sighed and shook my head. The smile that returned to my face was one that didn’t meet my eyes. Alfred’s arm tightened around my shoulder and if he noticed that I put the piece of paper on the plate after I was finished eating, he didn’t say anything.

It was hard to believe my eyes could sparkle any more, but I believe that for a short time that evening, they probably did.


	2. Brooklyn

There was a leaf caught in a spiderweb at the corner of the classroom window. Every time the wind blew, the leaf rattled against the glass. The kid next to the window stared at it, eyes heavy-lidded. I watched from where I sat behind the podium, half amused and half frustrated. If it wasn’t for the exam he had on his desk, I would’ve let him stare at the leaf until class ended. As it stood, he was already teetering on a C.

“Richard.” His attention jerked to me. He smiled guiltily and refocused on his paper, resituating himself in the chair.

The kid was putting himself through school, working nights and weekends. I’d seen him at the local deli, pouring over his engineering textbooks. But he still had to get through my class. History was required and couldn’t be escaped by testing-out like other core.

I glanced down at the linoleum tile under my shoes, edging my left foot forward to erase a scuff mark from the floor. One by one, students dropped their exam on the table at the head of the classroom and left, chattering in the hallway about the answers. More than once, I heard quiet cursing from the closing door. Shantal gave me a brief smile as she stepped out, nodding a good evening so she wouldn’t disturb the quiet of the classroom. Eventually, only three remained.

“You only have ten minutes left. Ten minutes.”

Pulling out my phone, I set a timer and checked my text messages.

 _Dinner at Dino’s?_ John was supposed to be in Washington for the week, so the question had me confused. I texted back as much, using extra question marks for emphasis. His response was instant:  _Need to get away._

Ah. I could only imagine what chaos he’d endured over the past few days, given how crazy the world had been since the Battle of New York and the Fall of the Triskelion. With John running interference for the Avengers and Alfred pulled in so many directions, it was only a matter of time before the fissures began to grow deeper. Internationally, the world was scarred and scared of people who continued to crop up— superpowered individuals who could defend and destroy easier than any weapon. Though my history books told me powered people were no new development, the general public never looked to history for answers.

“—Dr. Daniels?”

I didn’t realize that I had been staring at the leaf in the window and snapped back to reality, looking up at the student who towered over me. “Sorry, Dee Dee. What’s up?”

She shifted, dragging a hand through her blonde hair. “I was wondering if you might write a letter of recommendation.” I smiled a bit and she smiled back. “I want to join the gamma accelerator lab next semester, but it requires two faculty recommendations.” She shuffled a few papers and handed me a sheet. “I wrote down the requirements and I can email you my resume? Would you mind?”

“Not at all, Dee. I can get this written over the weekend.”

“Thanks, Professor.” She hurried out of the classroom, likely to sprint over to her 4pm physics lecture. I glanced to where my stragglers sat hunkered over their tests. One looked distinctly frazzled and the other maintained a sort of focused calm. The clock gave them five more minutes and I settled back into my chair once more, reading the newest text message.

_Shit’s gonna hit the fan in DC._

Johnny would probably tell me more at dinner and I didn’t bother asking for any information. It wasn’t as if he could tell me through text anyway. I looked up to see Rich packing away his things. He sent me a smile, but the exhaustion in his eyes made my heart hurt. He was just too tired to do all this. He propped the door open as he left and cast a sideways glance to the one remaining student before waving his way out.

“Peter—”

“Sorry, Dr. Daniels. Sorry.”

“No problem, Peter. Use the last couple minutes to finish up as best you can.”

Peter was a good kid. He commuted from Queens to Empire State to participate in the JET program.

Another glance to my phone.  _Cancelling on dinner, doll._  I sighed, shaking my head. Politics. Dinner plans could change in the span of ten minutes, given the right players. My best guess was an emergency committee meeting, particularly given that New York housed the largest number of enhanced individuals in the United States. John would  _have_  to attend, if only to be a thorn in the side of the administration’s bid to tag every mutant and Inhuman that slightly deviated from ‘normal.’ 

I typed a quick response:  _Go get ‘em, tiger._

Peter literally dragged his feet to the front of the classroom, grimacing as he placed the test down on the stack. I gave him a small smile in return. “I—I forgot the part about—Nevermind. Have a good weekend, Dr. Daniels.”

“You too, Peter. Be careful on your way home.”

Part of me wanted to be ignorant of the way he was holding his side.

“Have a safe weekend, okay?”

He sent me a smile and was out of the door.

Stacking the tests into a neat pile, I placed them in my standard manila folder before stuffing them into my bag. When I walked out into the hallway, shutting off the lights in the classroom, the leaf caught in the web rattled itself free and floated away.

My phone began ringing when I stepped into the frigid New York air. I jostled my bag away from my jacket pocket and withdrew it, starting to shuffle down the sidewalk. My cane clicked with ever step, as it always did when the weather was cold. For some reason, the metal always seemed to squeak when temperatures dropped below 20 degrees. “Al, tell me you’re keeping them at bay.”

“I’m keeping them at bay.”

There was a scoff in the background, loud enough for me to hear it over the din of traffic on West 4th. “Is that Arthur?”

“No _p_ e.”

I knew it was, but I let it go. “Make sure John eats today, please. He forgot to yesterday.”

Al cursed and I could imagine him propping his hands on his hips. “He tell you anything else I should know about? Is Susie off on another vacation or something?” 

So Susie wasn’t there?

“No, but…Al, you’re sure that the information’s been secured, right? After the breach—” John had never answered my questions outright and finding time to talk with Alfred directly was next-to nonexistent. Him calling me was worrying. It  _never_  was a good tiding. “Was—Were you able to get all of it after the dump?” I stopped at the corner of West 4th and West 12th. His lack of response made my heart race. The implications of it were staggering. “Al?”

“We think we got it all, Shelly. She dumped everything, but…we think we caught it before…”

 _Think._ He wasn’t sure.

Alfred was never the type for hedging.

Not good.

My stomach rolled. I needed to reorient, to focus. 

“You called me for a reason, Alfred. What’s up?”

“I— Look, Shelly…We’re gonna…” He cleared his throat and I had the sudden urge to hold onto something. I grasped my cane a little tighter. Somehow, I knew what was coming. I’d been sensing it for weeks, the rising tension in the middle of a storm. “We’re gonna not be around for a while.”

And what could I say?

It’s not as if I could cry and complain. It’s not as if I could ask them to make an exception. It’s not as if I could beg them to risk everything. No, I knew what information had been released after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and I knew how vital it was to keep that information from enemy hands. The only way to do so would be to slip into hiding again, the same way they always did when rumors started to spread.

Only this time…

This time, it meant leaving me behind.

It had to be done.

“How long do you think?”

“I dunno, Shelly.” He sounded breathless. “A year? Maybe more? Probably more. We—Not everyone agreed, but…We voted and it carried.” That was the best way to settle it. It was fair. “It’s everybody, Shell. Like I mean,  _everybody_.” Swallowing hard, I shuffled under an awning and braced myself on the brick. My arms were tingling. My chest was tight. I tamped down the panic as best I could. I knew this was coming. I  _knew_ the moment I realized—“Shelly? You okay?”

It was a stupid question.

He was a smart man. He knew that.

How could I be okay?

“Tell—” I coughed, trying to play off the tears. We walked through fire together. We’d been through hell. Now this. This was nothing, compared to everything else. “Tell John he needs to actually eat and that I said—tell him I said thank you, okay? Tell Thomas not to do anything rash. And send my best to Ivan and Muhammed for me? Tell the twins to stay out of trouble. And—”

“Nothing for Artie then?” There was a laugh and a loud voice in the background.

“Tell Arthur I love him.”

Alfred started to choke and I reaffirmed my hold on the phone, finding a center again even when it seemed like things were falling apart around me. “And Al? Please don’t do anything reckless. After all this, you know what the consequences would be. If HYDRA finds you…If you have to, stay underground as long as you have to—forever. Period. No matter what.” I pushed my nails into the brick. It hurt and it reminded me of things I’d rather forget, but the pain kept me upright. “Don’t worry about me.”

He was quiet, but I could hear his heavy breathing through the phone. “Can’t not worry, Shell.”

I swallowed.

“Love you, Shell.”

“Love you too. Be careful, Alfred.”

I heard the click and I was cut off from the world.

–*~*~*–

Our place in Brooklyn was quiet. Normally, when John left for a trip, he would leave the radio playing in the den, a soft melody so that I “wouldn’t feel alone” when I came home. This time, he’d rushed out and forgotten the ritual. So, I slipped off my shoes and padded unevenly over to the old stand-up radio, turning the dial until it turned on and jazz started to swing about the place. Still, the house seemed vacant. As I heavily fell into the old sofa, I realized that John was never coming home.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. information dump had come in the middle of chaos— when it seemed like the whole world was on fire. Washington was a danger zone. Alfred told me later they were in a bomb shelter under the Capitol building. Knowing what I knew, it wouldn’t have been enough to protect them. When they emerged hour later, the secure files of S.H.I.E.L.D. were loose on the internet. There was only so much time before everything would be revealed.

It tripped a failsafe virus worked up by Wang Yao. Every file with certain words and every webpage citing specific terms would be wiped from the net faster than anyone could read.

But it was too close.

Too close to risk. And that was the crux of it.

My phone rang and I turned to look at it as it sat on the sofa’s arm.

Corey.

“Are you okay?”

“Caroline’s gone.”

I deflated, sinking further into the couch. “Did she explain?”

“She did. I knew it was coming, but…We were on the list, Michelle. Them and us. That Project Insight list that’s circling the internet. HYDRA’s kill list. Our  _whole family_ , Shell. Practically everyone we know. Jessie, too.”

I knew that.

John didn’t even have to tell me.

I saw it in the haunted look he gave me after he arrived home a few nights after the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. I felt it in the way he held me and cried into my shoulder.

I sat on the phone with my brother until he fell asleep.

He was safer over there in South Korea. It occurred to me when he was deployed again that it was a way of securing him, keeping him protected from the potential threats that lingered out there. He was too close and they needed him safe. Caroline needed him safe, despite their on-again/off-again romance. It was the first clue of what was to come. I hung up the phone when his went dead and sat in the den until dawn, listening to the swing of the bands on the radio.

I didn’t cry once.

On a whim, I went to call John.

To speak to him one last time before losing touch.

_“We’re sorry the phone you are trying to reach has been—”_

–*~*~*–

Office hours are always quiet after a test.

Really, I should have cancelled them and gotten some rest, but I needed the distraction. I needed something to do. I found myself walking into the office building at half-past-seven, ungraded tests still in my messenger bag. It seemed like all good and bad things tended to be centered in my office. It was where all this started, a lifetime ago. So there I sat in my New York City office in the catacombs of a liberal arts building, thinking things would have been easier if…

I cordoned myself off with a pot of coffee and an office that had been redecorated in a single night. The pictures that had once lined my walls were gone, replaced by bland pastel paintings. Though I might’ve laughed at the obvious joke (Arthur knew I  _hated_  hospital paintings), I instead struggled to keep myself from losing it.

Every trace of them—of my travels, of our experiences together, of our history—was gone.

Every trinket from Egypt.

Every doll from Russia.

Every painting from Italy.

Every piece of Hungarian porcelain.

Every picture.

It seemed like bits and pieces of my whole identity had vanished.

I refused to lose control in my own office.

After a few moments of careful breathing, I opened my door again and set tunes to humming from my still-there Bluetooth DAB radio. They left it for me, or rather, Arthur did. I did a few quick checks to see if my quickly-developed theories were correct. Even as the instrumentals swelled on the radio, I could sense where things were going as I logged into my computer.

Sure enough, our email correspondence had been wiped. The records of my travels were scrubbed from my computer and, I suspected, everywhere else. When I went to check my bank data, I was unsurprised to find a large sum of money I didn’t earn sitting there with no indication as to where it came from.

And, sure enough, I now owned the Brooklyn townhouse—free and clear. It was in my name.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on my cold fingers on the keyboard.

They were doing everything they could to keep me safe.

I recognized that, appreciated it.

Damn it if it didn’t hurt like hell though.

Damn if I wouldn’t do the same.

“Excuse me, are you Michelle Daniels?”

Lifting my head and my fingers from the keyboarrd, I saw a man in a suit standing just outside my office door. My heart skipped a beat before hammering its way into my throat. Carefully, I sat straight and nodded. He took a careful step inside, looking about at the office with what may have passed as disinterest. “Dr. Michelle Daniels. How may I help you?”

“Dr. Daniels, my name is Phil Coulson.”

I knew that. I recognized him.

I recognized him from a long, long time ago—before all of this.

The fact that I did was sickening. So many years ago, John had asked me to bury it, to bury it deep and to never dig it up again. But there it was again: reality. Realities always seemed to chase me, never quite giving me rest. Yet, no matter where I turned, the new world confronted me.

_“Stay out of it, doll face. It’s not your battle.”_

_“The last time I tried to stay out of it—”_

“Hello, Phil.” I kept my voice even, despite the fact that my hands were shaking. I hid them beneath the desk. He used to be an agent. He was still an agent, of a defunct agency. But then again, I’d seen the first season of Agents of SHIELD. “You’re…”

“I’m here because someone requested that I come here, Doctor. I think you might want to hear what I have to say. Do you mind if I close the door?” I gestured for him to go ahead. When he did, he pressed a button-like contraption to the wall and it latched on, glowing a whitish-blue. “Sorry about the secret spy gadget. It’s better for everybody if this is kept quiet.”

“You were never here, right?”

“Right. Mind if I sit?”

My head shook and he settled himself into one of the teal chairs on the other side of my desk, where students usually sat for advising or to negotiate their grades. Somehow I got the feeling he was here for neither. It was better to just cut-to-the-chase. Why drag this out?

“Alfred sent you, didn’t he?”

Phil Coulson’s eyes widened before he smiled slightly, nodding. “He said you were sharp.”

“I only have one PhD. He has three.”

“That we know of.” His tone was so even that I could tell he truly believed that. A critical once-over had him leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “You can never attempt to make contact with them. It’s for their safety as much as your own.” I nodded, not saying a word. “I don’t know your whole story and frankly I don’t wanna know, but right now what I do need to know is that you’ll move on.”

At the very least, I appreciated that he wasn’t pressuring me for a story.

It wasn’t one I could tell anyway.

“The S.H.I.E.L.D. information dump has put a lot of people in danger. We’re saving the ones we can. We kept track of people. People that caught our attention. It was only a matter of time before the most secure files got decrypted. Even if they thought what they were doing was right, a lot of lives are on the line after the dump. We might’ve avoided the worst of it, but…your files were not as carefully guarded as the others. We didn’t—don’t have much information on you, but what we do know is enough to draw attention.”

“I don’t have powers.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m not a genius.”

“No, you’re not.” He shifted. “You’re a woman with a lot of influence in a lot of places with seemingly no reason for it. And, if that got out, what exactly do you think the consequences would be? You’ll forgive me, but you’re a radical element that no one knows what to do with—with access to people that you shouldn’t, by all rights, have. You’re a weak point.”

I sat with that for a moment.

In reality, I’d been sitting with that for years.

“I won’t seek them out,” I told him.

“I believe that.”

“And I can maintain obscurity.”

“Good ‘cause you’re gonna need it.” He leaned forward. “All of that isn’t why I’m  _actually_  here though. I just wanted to set some things straight.”

“Thought Alfred wouldn’t be blunt with me?”

“Thought he was too close to this.”

Fair enough.

“You’re here to tell me that the house is mine, that they’ve got me covered for life, and that Arthur wants me to enjoy the view?” He canted back, surprise pulling his brows up. I gestured to the bland watercolor prints that hung around my office. “And, probably, you’re going to tell me that my passport has been revoked.”

“Actually, your passport is fine. You’ll just find that it has fewer stamps in it.”

“You say that like we went through customs every time.” I felt myself settle into a strange sort of calm. It was all so clinical really— they needed to erase their entire existences, and for the past few years _I_  was a major part of those existences. Perhaps longer than that, looking at it the right way. “What is it you were sent for then, Agent Coulson?”

“Muhammed’s been a good friend since I had a mission in Alexandria back in oh-six. Got me out of a pretty sticky situation. He asked me to personally convey a message, after Alfred had already requested that I tell you all the things you just parroted. You know, the whole house-is-yours, set-for-life thing.” He had my undivided attention now and I could see that he understood that attention, perhaps even sympathized with it somehow. “Muhammed sent this.” He set a USB drive on my desk and sat back again.

I picked up the drive. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me. It’s password protected.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t break into it?”

“Oh, we tried. I had my best agent try to tap into it. What can I say— Muhammed’s a regular Mr. Robot.”

Turning it around in my fingers, I opened the drawer to my right, tossed it in, and shut the drawer again. Agent Coulson didn’t look the least bit surprised. Instead, he just smiled and nodded, brushing his hands along his slacks before standing. “Agent, tell them that I’ll figure it out and I’ll be fine. Tell them to look out for themselves and each other.” I was having a very hard time keeping my emotions in check, but my voice was stable and solid and clear. “Please tell them that I love them and that I hope to see them again, someday.”

He arrived at the door and turned. At the very least, he seemed to feel some sympathy. “Tell who?”

Then he was gone.

I sat there for a long while and tried to work through it all.

An hour later, I started grading again.

–*~*~*–

_“—one of those that voted ‘yes’ to the motion. That should not surprise you. Your health has always been one of my top priorities. Even if you disagree with my decision, I stand by it. As your friend, I couldn’t allow you to come into any further danger.”_

_“—restrained him as we could, trying to keep order, but he would not_ listen _—”_

_“The truth of it is, Michelle…You were never meant to be ours. We were fortunate to have you for a time. I…I was fortunate to have you for a time. But I ask you now, as your friend…as someone who knows your soul and you, as someone who knows mine…Please, let us—"_

I closed the laptop.

–*~*~*–

“No Johnny tonight, hun? Again?” I slid onto a seat at the counter as Miss Loretta leaned over to place a freckled hand on my arm. Her kind eyes alighted on my puffy eyes and my red cheeks. “It’s alright, honey. I know you miss him. Any word on when he’s comin’ home?” Shaking my head, I hooked my cane on the counter between me and the wall. I wanted to hide, but I’d spent too much time indoors. I’d spent too much time avoiding. It was already winter break. I couldn’t hide behind my grading anymore. “Sweetie, you’re gonna be okay. I know it. Let me get you your usual.” I smiled and nodded, thanking her.

Corey was heartbroken. Of course. After all, Caroline was his—whatever they’d been for the past few years.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how to fix anything in a world where everything was very much broken.

There was so much I couldn’t tell him. After a while, he stopped calling me. Instead, Jessie— our usual go-between when things got rocky— told me that Caroline’s will was executed. Apparently, a death certificate had been issued. All that was left of ‘Caroline Rutledge’ was stack of papers delivered to Corey with bits and pieces redacted, but every assurance that Corey was now set-for-life. In careful script, a sticky note on top of the finalized will documents told him to ‘live.’

I didn’t tell either of them that John had put the house in my name or that I now had a million dollars in the bank. I didn’t tell them about Muhammed’s video letter. I didn’t tell them about my office or the visit from a S.H.I.E.L.D.

I hadn’t talked to Jessie or Corey in weeks.

I remembered coming to this diner— then and now. My memories were better than they ever were, clearer and more distinct. I didn’t remember everything, but I remembered enough. That was just the way life went, give and take.

Halfway through my burger, I felt someone come into the diner. I turned to glance, but didn’t acknowledge them otherwise. It was 1am. People came to diners at 1am because they wanted to escape people or because they were drunk. Neither of those motivations lent themselves to conversation.

John and the others had disappeared. I had a few theories as to where, but I never explored them. I promised not to seek them out, and I never did. I went by, watching as the world changed in the aftermath of one cataclysmic event after another. Things I could change; things I couldn’t. I wouldn’t risk it. John told me to keep quiet.

On the news, there was some sort of chaos in Manhattan, at Stark Tower. It was so commonplace that most of the city ignored it and moved on, taking the destruction in stride as they did everything else. I ate my pie and watched the news fade into a story about the stock markets. Miss Loretta didn’t even glance toward the screen.

The bells on the front door rang as a raucous group made their way inside, throw themselves into a booth near the door. They catcalled Miss Loretta as she walked up to take their order. I barely kept myself from cringing, eyeing my empty plate and the tip left on the counter. Loretta looked my way and we shared a moment of sympathy. I grabbed my cane and started toward the door as she stepped back behind the counter. She motioned for me to move fast.

“Let your hair down with me, sweetheart.”

I felt a hand ghost over my hip as I moved past. I felt one of them grab the cane. I stopped and glanced down at the red-eyed fool. He was draped over the back of the booth seat by the door, practically folded in half on the cushion. His buddies were whooping.

“Let go.”

“I could show ya a good time, doll—”

Yanking the cane free of his grasping hands, I raised it up to strike and— “You don’t wanna go doin’ that now.” Someone had stopped my swing midair, grabbing the cane as I held it up. I whipped around to find myself face-to-face with— My stomach churned and knotted and collapsed and I felt everything within be start to tremble and shatter because…

 _Oh God, no_. Impossible. This wasn’t possible. My bad leg wavered a bit beneath me and he seemed to sense this, a hand coming to grasp my waist.

That hand was too stiff, too hard. Like metal.

_Your eyes really do sparkle._

I shuddered.

_Oh my God, no._

_Not him._

His cold blue eyes turned to the drunks, particularly the redhead who was still spouting all manner of lewd things. He lowered the cane to let me use it again. “Let’s go, darlin’. Ignore ‘em.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he guided me past them and out into the chilly Brooklyn air.

As soon as we were outside, he released me my waist and looked me over, eyes darting down to my right leg and then back up to my face again. It was almost like an assessment. I was familiar with that kind of critical look from my friends. There was no sign of recognition, and I didn’t expect one. He looked like a wreck of the man he once was.

Lines dragged along his forehead, between his brows, and under his eyes. I remembered somethings clearer than others. A night in a diner like this one, hash and uncertainty and there was no way this could be happening. How could I remember that so clearly when other things were still left blank?

My heart was racing.

Because I couldn’t come this close.

Because I couldn’t escape it.

He turned and took a couple steps away, obviously wanting to disappear back into obscurity. I was going to let him. He was a ghost of who he once was. It was a chilling realization when I realized I was a ghost of myself too.

“Thank you.”

He stopped and turned just slightly in the shadow between street lamps. There was no smile that I could see, but he nodded once to show that he had heard me. He heard me. He acknowledged me. And that was enough.

It was enough.

He looked so  _broken_.

He looked so broken. 

_“Don’t get involved, Michelle. Just let it go.”_

Just before he rounded the corner, I felt myself step forward. That step was uneven. It was my own history, sending a charge through my stomach. It was a shot-in-the-dark moment, a moment when everything shifts and changes. I’d made this mistake  _before,_  hadn’t I? I’d fallen prey to this instinct before. It’d cost me so much  _then_. It’d destroyed everything, ruptured realities.  _Then, then, then._ I paid the price, so did others, for my weakness. I knew things. I knew things I shouldn’t, but— I couldn’t—We’d both been whole then. 

Then.

“Bucky.”

The figure at the end of the block stopped.

He’d heard me.

He turned.

“Not here.” My throat felt dry and tight. I turned on my heel and started walking the other direction. I had to hope that he understood, that he would follow me.

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

 _Reckless. This was reckless, Michelle. You are an_ idiot _._ That voice sounded a little too much like Arthur. My heels clicked on the concrete. The air was too humid for December and I felt like I was choking.  _You should have kept your ruddy mouth shut. You absolute idiot._

If Bucky Barnes didn’t kill me in the next twenty minutes, Arthur would murder me. He’d reappear from obscurity to chastise me into oblivion.

_You idiot. You foolhardy idiot._

_You can’t change anything._

I left my front door open for him as I stepped inside. It was closed a moment later and the dread that settled in the pit of my stomach tasted like metal and gunsmoke. He was a force, an entire storm in my den. God, what did I do? Carefully, I raised both of my hands with the palms up. He said nothing and just stared, eyes boring into my every feature.

“I’m Michelle. You won’t remember me.”

He said nothing, attention flickering toward the bay windows.

“We can move to the kitchen. If you think it’s more secure.”

The slightest nod of his head had me edging toward the kitchen at the back of the space. He followed and I noticed he led with his left side. Metal arm first. When we arrived in the kitchen, I propped myself against the counter. All of the energy seemed stolen out of me, despite the torrent of nervous energy pooling around my heart and stomach.

“Thank you for not killing me immediately.”

He gave me a look, but said nothing.

“You’re Bucky Barnes. You know that already, right?”

“How do you know me? I don’t remember.”

“It’s a long story.” I tried not to grimace. That wouldn’t cut it. It wouldn’t be enough. Not for him. He deserved more than that. Taking a deep breath, I tried to center myself. “I’m willing to tell that story, all of it, if you’re willing to listen. Are you willing to listen?” I paused. “I don’t have any weapons. Just a gun upstairs in my nightstand. And a baseball bat.”

He glanced around at the space, checking the windows and doors before he pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. After a moment, he gestured for me to do the same. He looked intensely uncomfortable, back straight and his arm braced on the tabletop. “You’re not old enough to know me—from back then. Back when I was him.”

Dissociation. I recognized it.

“Time-travel. That’s…probably the easiest explanation, but it’s not gonna all make sense.” I kept my eyes on him, wondering at how much I could say. Something said I should tell him everything, but everything had shattered worlds before. I didn’t know how the story would end. Before, I did. “I’m from a world where all of this is—was fiction. I got thrown to here— Brooklyn, 1940. We met one night, at the old Dino’s diner. The one that was—”

“Under the bridge.” He sounded a little stunned. “The one under the bridge.”

Swallowing my surprise that he remembered that place, I nodded. “We only exchanged names and talked for less than an hour, but…You’re part of a story in my world. I know more about you than I should. I—I don’t know how much I can help, but…” Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I searched out his eyes. “I know what memory loss is like. I know…a lot of things I shouldn’t. It’s—Our paths crossed and I shouldn’t have stopped you, but I—” I didn’t know what to say.

“I saw him in a museum, the Smithsonian. I saw who I was. I’m…not really him anymore.”

That was a sort of vulnerability that I hadn’t been expecting.

Maybe it meant that he somehow trusted me? I doubted it, but…

“You’re never gonna be him again.”

He stood and pushed his chair back abruptly. The scrap of the chair against the hardwoods made me jump. He didn’t even seem to register it. Without another word, he headed for the back door. He didn’t even look back. I felt my heart sputtering, a wave of nervous energy falling over my shoulders. I flinched.

Instinct guided my words and I tried to keep my voice level. “You’re w-welcome here. If – If you need a place to land.”

The door slammed shut.

Pressing my face into my hands, I wondered if I had just ruined the world a second time. 


	3. Knowledge

Two weeks after my diner encounter with an amnesic Howling Commando, I ambled my way down the stairs, continuing to towel-dry my hair from a too-long shower. Back when the world made some sense, John would have been in waiting for me in the kitchen, with steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Cream and sugar. He would’ve smiled and held it out for me as he leaned against the counter. He would’ve told me we were going to go for a walk because I needed to “get out more.”

 _“C’mon, doll. It’s Coney or bust.”_ His arm would sling around my shoulder and he would drag me out into the sunlight. I paused at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the front door, vaguely remembering that I needed to plant flowers in the box soon. Winter was slowly fading into spring.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I was met with a pair of blue eyes—not the blue eyes I was used to. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest and I gasped, clutching at where my pearls might’ve rested. “You—You startled the hell outta me! Oh my God!” Taking a deep breath through my nose and holding it, I tried to calm my racing heart.

He shifted, looking me up and down. Self-consciously, I held the dressing gown a bit closer together and tried to get my bearings. Bucky Barnes. In my house. Door still locked? Window still unbroken? Then it struck me as an afterthought:  _This man is a master assassin. He can get in without all that._  It was a good gauge of how insane my life was that the thought was a comforting one.

“Didn’t meant to scare ya.” His accent seemed a little thicker and, now that I took a closer look, he seemed a little more cleaned-up. A black shirt and a black jacket and blue jeans. He held a black ball cap in his hands. “I, uh…I thought about what you said.”

Pressing my lips together, I moved past him to the Keurig and set a cup beneath the dispenser. “Coffee or tea?” He was quiet for a moment. When I turned around, I noticed that his brows were pulled together. It almost seemed like he was shocked I had asked him. I continued to wait, shifting all of my weight onto my left leg as I propped a hand on my hip. “It’s up to you. I have both.”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee it is.” 

Opening the top, I put in one of John’s reusable cups and then closed it again. Carefully, I made my way over to the table and edged myself into a chair. “You look…more real.” He glanced at me, refocusing on my face. He had been staring at the half-eaten pie that sat in the middle of the table. “How many versions of you are in your head right now?”

“Too many.” His head shook. “I don’t know why I came here, but I figured—I figured that it was worth the risk.” He sank down into the chair across from me. “You said this world was fiction.”

I hesitated, attention flickering to the place on the wall where a picture and me and John used to hang. 

Fiction. 

Fiction had never been more real.

Did he deserve anything less than the truth?

I thought about lying for a moment. I thought about telling him that I just wanted him to be curious, to come back, to… I don’t know what. I thought about all the ways that this was  _stupid_.

Then again, he was lost.

And I understood being lost.

Not in the same way. Not to the same degree.

I just…wanted to talk. I needed to.

Because I had never told anyone.

And this was the only person, now, I could ever envision _telling_.

“I was teaching at a community college out in Kansas City, but not  _this_  Kansas City…”

There were bits and pieces I left out, things that I couldn’t tell anyone. Things that would get him killed faster than his own past. Stuff about Nations and Sub-Nations. Embodiments. Stuff about their roles in history. I glossed over it, casting them as a group similar to SHIELD, super-secret spies like what Arthur always liked to envision himself to be.

We sat there for what seemed like hours and I forgot all about the coffee. He seemed to as well. 

Some part of me didn’t want him to know all of this. Some part of me thought that it was a story no one should hear, that no one could understand or accept.

Most days, I didn’t quite accept it myself. I just learned to live with it.

I pushed it all to the back of my mind and moved forward.

The hardest parts of the story were the moments I could remember and yet couldn’t remember— things lost, but  _there_.

“— and when I arrived in Egypt I was nearly dead.” The matter-of-fact tone in my voice contradicted with the anxiety that boiled under my skin. “Muhammed got me through it as best he could, but his nation was about to fall.”  _He_  was about to fall. “The hallucinations wouldn’t stop. I had a hard time telling one reality from another.”

“Solitary’ll do that.”

I held his eyes for a long moment then nodded.  

I grimaced and stood again, turning toward the coffeemaker. My fingers drew across the cup’s side. “It’d cold. A little late for coffee now.” It was nearly three in the afternoon and my hair had air-dried into frizz and random ringlets. I swept it up off my neck and into a ponytail as I moved to the fridge. “The infection in my foot resulted in an amputation of the heel. That’s why I have a limp.”

“There was no guarantee that keeping quiet would keep the timeline from changing.” His brows pulled together. There was a flash of good humor on his face. “Can’t believe I just said that out loud. Sounds like something outta the funny papers.”

“Now _that’s_  a phrase I haven’t heard in years.” I poured the sweet tea into a glass and set it on the table in front of him before fixing a glass for myself. “Turns out, the reality was screwed from the get-go. Everything went off-the-rails. Germany started to win, bit by bit. Egypt fell. Then, Libya.”

“Libya never fell.”

I smiled sadly and sighed. “Not now it hasn’t, no. But it did. Then. It was like a cascade. One thing after another. Dominos. It started snowballing, everything started falling apart. By the time things came to a crux, Japan attacked earlier. In September. It all would have resulted in a win for the Axis, so I did the only thing I could.” 

I shrugged and took a sip of the tea and looked out into the dark living room. It stood relatively unchanged from seven decades earlier with a few modern updates. The old fixtures looked purposeful now. Styles kept recirculating. What was old was new again. It all came back around.

“I fixed it.”

“You fixed it. How?”

Raising my brows, I tried to think of the best way to put it. He already thought that Arthur and Lukas were mutants, so I decided to roll with it. 

“I made a deal with an alien.”

“You’re a time traveler from another reality…changed history…and made a deal with an alien to fix it.” Bucky trailed off. I could see the wheels turning in his head, brows screwing together in thought. Bless his heart. He really was trying to remain open to all this. It wasn’t as if he could say it wasn’t possible when he sat there at ninety-nine looking thirty. “This sounds certifiable, doll.”

_Doll._

Snorting, I raised my glass in salute and ignored the pang of hurt in my chest. God, I missed John. “Yeah, well, we’ve arrived at the halfway point. It’s time for intermission.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Do you remember anything about picture shows?”

“I remember…A scrawny kid getting his ass beat behind one a couple times.”

“Behind several, probably. Do you remember that kid’s name?”

Bucky eyed me for a moment, obviously unsure where I was going with this. “Stevie.” He pursed his lips in thought. It may have even been a pout. “Punk got his ass beat a lot.”

Nodding, I tried to hide my amusement. “Yeah, sounds like him. I only met him one time, when I met you. He barely said a word, but he threatened to take my friend out back for being pushy—” I saw his eyes widen and I shook my head. “—for being rude to me. I don’t really know him—Stevie— outside of that…But I know enough from the movies in my world. I’m sure he got roughed up a lot behind theaters, behind a lot of buildings in Brooklyn. Seemed to be his thing.” There was a huffed chuckle and I smiled.

“Hard to believe the picture shows and comics stuff.”

“ _Do_  you believe it?” I watched his face. He’d listened to everything so calmly before that he barely had any reaction when I’d explained the ‘different world’ part of my story. Now, it seemed like one of those turning points. The kind that could make or break something, like a future or a past.

He searched my face for a moment, then: “I believe you.” He shifted. “Just hard to see that little punk on the big screen when he was roughed up behind a diner every other night. Hard to know…that somewhere, people know.”

Know what happened to him. Know what he did. Know everything? Or only part of everything?

“How much do you remember of that?”

“More than I did.” He shifted. “It’s… out of order. Pieces. Some things are clearer than others. I remember more about…my time as Him. I remember them. All of them.”  

Him…The Soldier, I suspected, but I said nothing. 

He didn’t need me to say anything, so I didn’t.

We sat in silence for a long while. For the first time in months, despite the risk I had taken, I felt somewhat peaceful. It wouldn’t last, I knew. It never lasted. The past few months without my friends had left me feeling empty, left with too many thoughts.

 Those thoughts had brought me low, made me see so many things that I’d been ignoring. Like the people and the blood. I hadn’t thought of the blood in years. It made me realize how much I relied on Them to make me feel whole.

“I remember you.”

Choking on my tea, I turned to him with wide eyes. The feeling that swelled in the pit of my stomach was enough to force the air from my lungs. “No. It was only a few minutes. A few minutes  _seventy years ago_.” He had to be lying through his teeth, because that would be ridiculous.

“It’s what got me to come back here.” He saw that I didn’t quite believe him and he leaved forward conspiratorially, hair falling into his face. I felt my stomach clench, nervous energy welling behind my heart again. “Figure you must’ve left an impression on me, darlin’.”

“I never leave an impression.”

He shrugged and kept leaning forward, voice low. “It’s usually the people who think they don’t leave an impression that do.” Bucky sat back again. “I remembered your eyes.” That swooping feeling in my stomach wasn’t leaving and I desperately heaved a breath and held it, hoping to center myself again. I leveled him a bland stare. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No. I don’t.”

He nodded and sat back again. “I did a background check. Learned everything I could about you and observed you over the past two weeks. If you were undercover or somethin’, you were good at it.” That sounded more along the lines of what I had been expecting.

“Staying in Brooklyn probably ain’t the smartest.”

“I walked into the Smithsonian and back out again. Looked at my own face on a display.” He shrugged a little too nonchalantly. “That’s not to mention Sokovia. They don’t know where to start lookin’.”

Swallowing, I had to agree with him. The news had only reported just over a hundred casualties. The news had been devastating and the calls for the reigning of the Avengers had begun to gain traction. There were more casualties buried in the rubble and I couldn’t imagine what Sokovia herself was going through. I’d met her once at a world meeting. She was kind and gentle, always edging herself away from Ivan within the room. 

They wouldn’t know where to start looking for the former Winter Soldier. 

And they certainly wouldn’t start again in Brooklyn.

“You’re welcome to stay here.”

“You told me that last time. It’s…I’m a murderer, Michelle. I’m not roommate material.”

“If you’re defining a ‘murderer’ like that, then I’ve been living with a murderer for years.” He choked on his tea a bit and I smiled sadly, drawing a finger through the condensation on the side of my glass. “If you define being a ‘murderer’ like that, then you’re in just as much danger as I am.” Raising my eyes, I held his gaze. His eyes were unsettling— mostly because it was clear that he both didn’t understand and didn’t agree. “And that’s fine. I don’t doubt that’s how you feel. It’s how I feel too.”

“You haven’t killed anyone.”

“Directly or indirectly?”

Pushing my chair back, I stood and hobbled my way over to the counter to set the glass into the sink. I braced myself there and waited for a moment.

“If you stay, James, I won’t pressure you. If I do, tell me that I am. Otherwise, the room at the top of the stairs to the right is yours. Towels are in the hall closet. The bathroom is at the end of the hall on the left. You…know my routines, I’m sure. And I can…get you whatever you need. I—I just want to help.” 

Without looking at him, I tried to force myself to leave the kitchen and head back upstairs.

Something about that silence made me stop.

“Thank you for listening, James. If you ever want to tell me your story, I’ll listen.”

“You already know it, though. Don’t you?”

“Not from you, I don’t.”

–*~*~*–

A new semester started, full of possibilities and grading and administration tasks. Mostly grading. The world was shifting a changing all around us, yet students still had to take tests and write papers. If there was one constant in my life, it was that fact. I ran my hands over my face and sighed into them, curling myself forward in my desk chair. Unlike my old office in Kansas City, these New York digs were basically underground, with only a little natural light let in from a small window at the corner of the room. I’d replaced Arthur’s watercolor hospital paintings with work I commissioned from a former student—all bright, vibrant colors and landscapes.

Someone edged at my doorframe and I caught a glimpse of his backpack as he turned away again. “Peter, come in.”

He whipped around and peeked into the office. “Oh, hey! Hey, Dr. Daniels! I didn’t see you sitting there! Seems kinda wild…You’re just…You know, here. In your office.” He looked completely awkward as those words left his mouth and I took pity on him.

“Is there something you need, Peter?”

“Uh, well…Yeah, kinda. See, I, uh, do an academic decathlon team at school. Well, this is school too, isn’t it? At my high school. Midtown? And, I mean, I was wondering if you would help us with study guides for our team? Like history study guides? Mr. Harrington was gonna email you, but I said I would ask.”

“Of course, Peter. I’m happy to. When do you need them by and what’s the historical time period?” I wheeled around to my desktop and opened my to-do list.

“World War I and II. We start practice on March 1st.” Nodding, I agreed to the timeline. “Mr. Harrington said you could come to practice if you wanted to. Uh, right. Here’s his email.” I turned around again to take the sheet of paper from him. “Thanks a lot for this, Dr. Daniels! I—We appreciate it!”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Be careful on your way back to Queens, okay? I’ll send the study guides by March.”

The kid disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, and I was left again to the doldrums of grading.

That was until an email popped up on my desktop from an address of alphanumeric sequences and an untraceable domain. I eyed it for a long time, not quite willing to open a spam email and risk my files. Instead, I ran through the security procedures outlined by the university for such emails before opening it. What I found inside had my stomach twisting.

> _Michelle._
> 
> _If I know each of the idiots around you well enough, they thought to keep you “out of it” would somehow protect you. I don’t think that. Ignorance has never worked before. Why should it work now? So, here I am: breaking international law and loving every moment of it._
> 
> _You and I both know this is nothing new. For you or for me._
> 
> _I would like to see them attempt to stop me._
> 
> __The Jerks are well-aware of our existence. This has been true for some time, since around 1945— though perhaps long before that. We only became aware of The Jerks’ knowledge in 1945._ _
> 
> __They managed to capture one of us. They performed experiments on him. I will not write more. They did not expect him to be so battle-hardened. Strong, though I am loathe to admit it. He would not tell them anything. It was his brother that rescued him. We still do not know all of the details._   
>  _
> 
> _The Jerks know about you._
> 
> _Your name was on the list of those to be killed by that stupid insightful project. The names of your mother, brother, and sister were on that list as well. My assistant, his family, and several of those I am close to were listed._
> 
> _They targeted people we are close to, to destabilize us._
> 
> _To swing us into chaos._
> 
> _Your name on that list was by association alone. Not by knowledge._
> 
> _I am sure you can see where I am going with this._
> 
> _The decision was made by majority vote._
> 
> _All previous identities have been erased. A clean slate. Though, I am sure you know that nothing is ever a ‘clean slate.’ Due to circumstances in my capital city and nearby nations, I submitted my vote electronically. It was not until recently I heard of how those closest to you left without further explanation. Absolute buffoons. Idiots._
> 
> _I can promise you that I struck at least one with a frying pan when I saw him._
> 
> _Your vengeance was felt, my friend._
> 
> _I am sure you also received cryptic explanations, if I am to guess the very best of…Well, you know who I mean. Equally frustrating._
> 
> _You deserve more. Honesty. You deserve to know why. This is all I can say, the only reassurance I can give you._
> 
> _We are safe. Do not worry for us._
> 
> _You must be careful. I know the weight you carry. Bear with it. Be cautious of The Jerks. We have done our best, in our own ways, to ensure that those we care for are not targeted._
> 
> _I shall continue to send you notes as I can._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _E.H._

I didn’t bother typing a reply. I knew a burner email when I saw one. This conversation would only be one way. A bitter part of me added a bland  _like it always was_  to that sentence. For some reason, after weeks of silence from the Nations and States, I couldn’t quite find it in myself to  _care_  about the fact that I somehow “deserve more.” Instead, I focused on one small detail.

Prussia? One of the Italy brothers? So many referred to themselves as brothers that I couldn’t quite figure who it was that had been captured by HYDRA. The thought that any of them could have…was enough to make my stomach churn.

Hungary said it was around 1945. I’d left four years before that, but I wondered if I had somehow caused it. The butterfly effect was vast and unforgiving. Even if I left in 1941 and resent the timeline to be as it should, I knew better than anyone how the differences cascaded outward and then reverberated back. My heart went out to whoever it was. I couldn’t imagine.

However,  _that_  presented a whole new aspect to the situation I had no considered before. At first, I had thought about the destabilization. It would make since given who was on Project Insight’s target list.

What I had not yet considered was the use of a good, old-fashioned hostage.

“The joke’s on them in that case,” I muttered. I closed the email window and reopened my excel gradebook. “No one’s gonna come and they’ll be in a world of disappointment.” 

I set back to grading.

The Nations and I had agreed a long time ago—

No Nation or State would save me if HYDRA was involved, no matter what. Period. I even had backup plans in place if the worst should happen. They started with an ‘I’ and ended with a ‘n’ and they swore to control the situation should the worst happen. I wanted to cover all my bases after I realized the messed up world I now resided in was one of many colliding stories.

Given the man currently residing in my house, that directive we established years ago gave me some reassurance.

Only some.

After all, Nations violated treaties all the time.  

–*~*~*–

“You’re not allergic to tomatoes, right?”

That was the last thing I expected to hear when I opened the front door. The radio was playing some big band music, one of my old records John had kept. It reminded me of life  _then._  My house guest must’ve been working on memories today if the radio was playing. I set my briefcase just inside the door and tugged off my shoes as he rounded the corner.

He still wasn’t clean-shaven, but it seemed he’d showered today. His hair was clean and pulled back. He must’ve felt secure enough to do that much. I wondered how many patrols he’d run just to get into the bath. Anxiety sometimes didn’t let people so such ‘simple’ tasks as bathing.

A week ago, I cleaned out John’s bathroom so that James could use a bathtub rather than a shower.

The shower reminded him too much of a cryo pod.

Just like I couldn’t go into my closet without a light on.

“No, I’m not allergic…”

“I made dinner.”

“You—Wow, you didn’t have to do that, James. I don’t mind cooking.”

James propped himself in the doorway, leaning on his metal arm. He actually looked a little healthier. A bath had done wonders for him, it seemed. Like it made him feel more human. “It’s…nothin’ fancy. Just soup and grilled cheese. Figured I owe you that much. You takin’ care of a vagrant like me and all.”

“You don’t owe me anything and soup sounds great with this cold spell we’re having.” I glanced over at the open notebook on the coffee table. “You havin’ any luck?” He shrugged and I didn’t want to pressure him. I knew what it was like to not remember. Instead, I just made my way into the kitchen, where two steaming bowls of soup were already sitting on the table. “So… you can cook?”

“It was just me and Ma there for a while, with my sisters. I helped her cook and…I, uh, cooked for Stevie sometimes.” He pulled the chair out for me, giving me a small smile as he did so. I accepted it, slipping onto the seat and adjusting my skirt as he moved to the other side of the table. “Haven’t cooked since 1945.” When I stayed quiet, he held my eyes for a moment. “Nutrient shakes and an IV.”

“How  _efficient_  of them.”

He made a scoff-like noise over his soup. “The kids behave today?”

“Remember the one I was telling you about? The one who’s gonna be a superhero?”

“Queens?”

I nodded, smiling into my spoon at the nickname. “Asked me to make study guides for his Academic Decathlon team.”

James’ brows pulled together. “You’re bunkin’ with me and teachin’ Queens.” I focused on my grilled cheese, avoiding the heat behind my ears. I could feel the disbelief in his stare. “You’re doin’ terrible with the whole ‘ _avoid the characters_ ’ thing, darlin’.”

“Seems like no matter what I do, I can’t avoid it.”

“You could’ve just let me go.”

That brought me up short. Because he was right. I’d inserted myself into his narrative. And I tried to rationalize it somehow. I’d been trying to rationalize it for weeks now, but I couldn’t. It was stupid. Idiotic. Arthur’s voice was still chiding me in my head. “Yeah…Well, I got soup and grilled cheese out of the deal, so…” The bland look he sent me made me sigh and nod. “You’re right, I know. I just…I couldn’t—”

Stupid, idiotic, but—

I just couldn’t  _let you go_.

I couldn’t let him walk away.

Not when I knew—Not when—

I looked at him. He looked back me.

Somehow, he seemed to know. Somehow, he seemed to understand.

Even if I didn’t understand myself.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out his right hand and held it open on the table top. There was uncertainty in the action, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing was smart or right. I set my spoon down and reached across to take hold of his fingers. He pressed his thumb over my knuckles and held my hand a little tighter. Neither of us said anything. I don’t think we could have.

Strange thing, we probably didn’t need to. 

And I couldn’t explain that. 

Something shifted then. I think we both knew it, but neither of us said anything as we released our hands and went back to eating.

“So…academic decathlon, huh?” He smiled slightly around a spoonful of soup. “The kid’s a nerd.” 

“Definitely a nerd,” I agreed. “You’d like him.”

–*~*~*–

It was late—perhaps three or so in the morning. I sat on my bed, massaging my leg as I stared out into the darkness of my room. Moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains. I couldn’t seem to sleep. It was Elizabeta’s words that kept me awake. The email swirled round and round in my head.

_I know the weight you carry. Bear with it._

Bear with it.

The death toll of Sokovia was one hundred and seventy-seven at final count. After my afternoon class, President Ellis announced the ATCU— Advanced Threat Containment Unit— to find and contain people with powers. ATCU. I had never heard of that before. Inhumans were making headlines. Mutants were catching worldwide attention. Even though I knew there would come a time when people with powers would be persecuted. I couldn’t remember the details.

The ATCU…It told me what I’d been anticipating for years.

I didn’t know what would happen next.

The Battle of New York, Sokovia, the Fall of SHIELD, the disaster in Greenwich…I saw those things coming from a theatre in Shawnee, Kansas. I’d seen the films back home before I was flung into this world. I’d eaten Buncha Crunch, drank a frozen coke, and watched it all in IMAX, technicolor, high-definition picture.

Buildings crumbling, people screaming. All of it as my feet stuck to the soda-covered floor. 

Like the history I’d read in history books, wrote about in my dissertation, the movies didn’t seem real and visceral, until they were.

Everything after Sokovia…I couldn’t predict.

I couldn’t even remember the name of the next film. 

My memories being what they were, the name of the next Marvel flick hadn’t taken precedence over my grandfather’s smile or my grandmother’s voice. Or my sister’s baby shower. Then and there. 

It all stopped at Sokovia.

The battles up until now, the deaths— I might’ve had the chance to stop them.

But I didn’t.

_You can’t control this, Shell. You can’t control any of it._

_It’s not like that, Daniels. That’s not how the bloody world works._

_It is not your responsibility, dushenka, to avoid every bad thing._

_Just live, my friend. That is all I ask._

_Bear with it._

I gripped the sheets until my fingers ached, gritting my teeth. I kept the emotions at bay. Well over three hundred deaths in what I once knew as the cinematic Marvel Universe. I was pulled into 1940, into this world, after  _Age of Ultron_ had been released.My knowledge didn’t extend beyond that film. 

It was frustrating and…liberating.

Even back in 1940, when the world began to fall apart, I could anticipate. 

I had enough knowledge of the period to make educated guesses of actions and reactions.

Now?

With no small amount of shame, I realized that the feeling that settled in my chest was…relief.

Because this was finally where it ended.

Was I responsible for anything that followed this?

This was where my foresight, my knowledge of coming events, ended.

Did my responsibility end there as well?

A knock startled me out of my guilty relief.

I whipped my head around to see Buck—James standing there, concern pulling him further into the room. He assessed the space in a single glance, seeing the weaknesses in security and the vulnerability my thin drapes presented. He edged into the shadows by the door, holding up both hands. “You okay, darlin’?”

Letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I looked up at him and mechanically nodded.

“I don’t know what happens. From here. I…don’t know any more. I—”

I’d been running for years from that— knowledge.

I’d been abducted for it.

Tortured for it.

Part of me knew why the Nations told me to stay silent, to keep my knowledge to myself. Part of me knew that it was with the desperate hope that HYDRA (and others) would never know.

That I would never have to go through what I’d been through in 1940 again.

That I would never have the chance to destabilize the world as we knew it.

I looked at James. “I don’t know what comes next.”

James was quiet for a long moment. “Like the rest of us, darlin’.” He smiled around his joke before his face became a bit more shuttered. “You did the best you could.”

“No.” I looked back at my hands as they grasped the bedsheets. There was a flash there, but I ignored it. I never told him about all of that– the things I still saw sometimes. I should have, but…I couldn’t. “I didn’t do anything at all, James.”

“Sometimes, that’s the best you can do.” He kept to the shadows as he moved toward my bed. He sat down on the edge.

We stayed like that for a long while, just sitting in the silence of my dark bedroom.

For the first time in a very long time, I feared the future.

Not because I saw what was coming and the terrible things it brought…but because I didn’t know what it would bring.

That, quite honestly, was almost worse.

I glanced over at James, who was leaning against my headboard with his eyes closed. Part of me wanted to reach out, but I didn’t. Instead, I just closed my eyes and leaned against the wall.

Almost.


	4. HYDRA

The man that stood in the doorway was not James Barnes. Well, it was him, but it was not him. The Soldier— distant and cold eyes— stared back at me. There is no expression on his face, no sign of recognition. I slowly raised my hands and take a few uneven steps back until my shoulders hit the pantry door. It’s terrifying. It’s James, but it’s not James. I can’t see him in there at all. Just the Winter Soldier, the cold and ruthless killer they made him to be. His eyes narrowed on me, analyzing my stance and my exit routes.  

“It’s Michelle. You’re okay. You’re sa—”  

He moves, drawing close enough to wrap one powerful metal hand around my throat. And the images that flash in my mind are not of blood or gore. It’s a pair of red eyes— desperate, desperate red eyes.  

“So, Germany does take after you. He did the same to me not too long ago." 

The Winter Soldier tightened his grip. When my vision began to blur a bit, then my horror truly skyrocketed and my hand rose to scratch at his metal fingers. The red eyes faded into soulless blue. This wasn’t Prussia with all his reason and militaristic might and fear of what was to come.

This was an assassin on a mission.

Spots danced into the moonlight. Slowly, I lowered my hands and eased myself from the tension and the fright. Both of us couldn’t lose themselves like this. Both of us couldn’t go back. Both of us couldn’t let the memories consume us. Though my arms felt heavy, I raised one up again and drew my fingers over the scruff of his cheek.

” _Stop_ ,“ a calm voice interrupted the ringing in my ears.  

It was an echo of the past.  

Egypt.

God, I missed him.

The shift was sudden. My vision was beginning to blur, but I saw it. I saw the spark of recognition, the horror and realization. Then, suddenly, the hand was gone and I could breathe again. I dropped to the floor in the next instant, as if my strings had been cut.  _Red strings?_  Coughing, I tried to steady my breathing and keep calm. One of us had to be calm.

“J—James…”  

“I—I—Oh, God.”  

"It’s okay.” I coughed. “It’s okay.”

He stumbled back. “M-Michelle, I—I almost—” His legs caught the sofa table where my journal, Bible, and keys rested. When those things scattered to the floor, he seemed even more startled. “I–”

“You didn’t…Please, don't—”

He continued to scramble back, eyes wide until he spun and ran out of the back door. I watched the door slam shut and closed my eyes, swallowing roughly as I leaned my head against the pantry door. I could feel the pinch of skin broken by the metal plates of his hand. Sighing, I let both of my legs fall straight and rest on the hardwood floor.  

–*~*~*–

The blood on my hands was making it difficult to work, so I brushed my fingers over my green circle skirt and set back to the task. My attention flickered to James’ face, which was void of any reaction. No pain. Nothing. He just watched me. Very carefully, his metal hand brushed the bangs from my sweaty face before he laid it on his side again. Dabbing my forehead with my right forearm, I pushed the needle through once more and pulled.  

The feel of the needle pulling through the skin made my throat feel full.

“What kind of HYDRA agent uses daggers nowadays?” Pulling the thread taught, I looped it again and pushed the needle through the skin once more. “And what kind of super soldier confronts twenty-some-odd Nazi villains? That’s not a low profile, James. In Washington! Over twenty Nazi cronies.” I stopped and wiped my hands on my skirt again. My voice was bordering on incredulous. “You lead ‘em on a wild goose chase through the catacombs of D.C. And you just decide ‘Nah, you know what? Screw it. I’m just gonna kick their asses.’ I thought that was Steve’s gimmick, James.”  

“’s a sword.”  

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I’m  _sorry_ , James. I think you’re missing the basic point here.”  

“Yeah, okay, pot.” If I pulled the needle through a little too roughly that time, James didn’t say anything. Instead, he smirked slightly and leaned up to look at my face. I actively avoided his eyes and made a show of wiping my hands off again. I’d forgotten what this much blood felt like. “Laying low isn’t your greatest skill either, darlin’.”  

“I am the  _definition_  of low profile.”  

He shook his head and chuckled, laying back again with both arms propped behind his head. The motion looked like it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash. I laid a hand on his torso just above the newly-sewn gash. 

“Yeah? Look at what you’re doin’ right now and repeat that with a straight face.”  

Oh, you know, just sewin’ up the former Fist of HYDRA.

Just stitchin’ up a sword wound on a Howling Commando.  

It was a normal Sunday, really.

The smugness in his grin made me really want to stab the needle into him again, but unfortunately, I’d made it through the whole stitching process. I started to knot off the thread.  

“You realize I’m a wanted fugitive, right?”

“Slipped my mind.”  

James made a vague sound of agreement. “You’re not half-bad with this stuff.” 

I gently taped a piece of gauze over his stitched wound and sat back, both of my hands held up. The blood trailed up to my forearms. A familiar sight. My hands lowered and I looked back down at James, who was watching me. There was a critical tick to his brow, like he was analyzing my expression. His metal hand reached up to take one of my blood-covered ones. 

“You know  _why_  I led them to D. C., right?”  

His voice was— _tender_.

They’d found him after he ran off. 

After he’d choked me during a flashback. 

He led them away.

Away from me.

“Of course, I do.”  

My voice was little above a whisper, rougher than I expected. Sucking in a breath, I let go of his hand and pushed myself up to stand. I couldn’t look at him for a moment, trying to find my bearings. I swallowed and nodded, recentering. “I’ll— I’m gonna— go…I’m gonna go wash myself off. I—” I stopped, shook my head, and hurried toward the stairs.  

Beneath my uneven steps, I could’ve sworn I heard him sigh.  

As soon as the bathroom door closed, I leaned against it and squeezed my eyes shut.  

This wasn’t what I envisioned. This was  _not_  going to work. I couldn’t let whatever  _that_  was keep growing. I had to stop it. I turned to the mirror and the sink to stare at the dark blotches under my eyes, the frazzled strands of hair that fell from my braid, and the blood that covered my green skirt and blue blouse. It painted me purple. My chest was heaving and I could’ve sworn I’d seen this image before.  

In another dream, or hallucination, or in the space between worlds.  

Or maybe it was the blood.  

I washed my hands, stripped off the clothing, and stepped into the shower. I pulled the curtain across and let the water rush over me. I’d let the water take the blood away. And the feelings. Neither of those things would serve me well. Neither of those things would help him.  

So I let them go— breathed them out in a sigh that made my body feel boneless. 

The shower may have been peaceful— if I didn’t hear the door open just a few minutes after I’d finished washing my hair. The snap of the door made me start. It felt like him, but I couldn’t quite say why.  

“James?”

Carefully, I pulled the curtain back and looked at him. The door framed his body and the steam poured out of the room around him. And I really couldn’t fathom why he was there, just staring at the floor as if he was trying to figure out the tile’s pattern.  

“James? You— Are you alright?”

James raised his eyes, determination set on his features. James Buchanan Barnes had an expressive face, one that was easy to read if someone took the time to read the cues. His brows pulled together, and the set of his jaw was firm. I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes, trying to figure it out.  

“I remembered something.”  

Settling my weight onto my good leg, I nodded and gestured toward the toilet. “Have a seat and tell me. I’ll finish washing up.” I don’t retract my head into the shower until he takes a seat on the closed toilet seat. He looks conflicted, glancing at the shower curtain before focusing resolutely on the laundry basket across from the toilet. “Tell me.” I put some conditioner in my hair and listened.  

“We had to be eight or nine? Little kids. Stevie was running and we were playing and then, he just… he dropped. I thought he died. We were in the middle of the street and I dragged him to shore.”  

To the edge of the street, I corrected mentally. I didn’t interrupt though.  

“I have a sister.”  

I knew that as well, but I didn’t tell him that much. I’d known of Rebecca for months now. He’d remembered her in March. Every so often, he’d forget that he’d remembered. I understood. There were still times when I forgot where I was, who I was, what I was doing. The water was getting colder, but I stayed in the shower.  

“—said that I was still the Asset.” His voice paused. “I’m more than that.” He paused. “I couldn’t kill them. That’s why.” Why he returned injured. He was holding back, trying not to fatally injure them. “I’m not what they made me. I’m…me.” I turned off the water and reached for the towel at the other end of the bath space. “I won’t be what they made me.” Of course he wouldn’t. Because he was strong. And good. “You can come out now, darlin’.”  

Hearing him stand from where he was seated, I wrapped the towel around myself and tugged the curtain open.  

“I’m proud of you, James.

His back was to me as he stood at the door. He turned just slightly, still looking at the wall like a gentleman. But it let me see his face and the slight smile playing on it. “Call me Bucky, sweetheart.” He turned just enough to see my jaw drop. His eyes flickered down for a moment so short I might’ve imagined it and then he winked and stepped out.  

Bucky.

The happiness that flooded me made me almost fall into a fit of giggles. I barely kept that instinct in check. Instead, I cast a sardonic look at the mirror– as if I could only share that look with myself.  _This guy…_

“Hey, Bucky!” I called out, still trying to contain my laughter. “Check me out like that again and see what happens.”  

“Sounds good to me.”

Rolling my eyes, I smiled and went to get dressed.  

–*~*~*–

School was just wrapping up for the day. My students were completing their midterm exams and I made the decision to give scantron-based tests for the first time since graduate school. It cut the labor of grading in half. And with my current exhaustion…I input the exam grades and saved them to my cloud drive so I could access the midterm update from home over the weekend.  

Bucky had told me to “doll up” for dinner, said he was cooking. His treat.

To celebrate spring break.

Only that, I reminded myself. We were just looking for something good to celebrate. Some reason to break into the pie I’d ordered online a few months back. That was the  _only_  reason why.

“Dr. Daniels.”  

Raising my head, I saw an unfamiliar face in the doorway. Unfamiliar was dangerous and my instincts told me something was wrong, well before the woman took a step into my office.

Her hair was impeccably styled and she looked stylish in her suit. Those two things shouldn’t have made me nervous, but they did. Especially in my office building, where our notion of style was a lack of holes in cardigans. “Are you Dr. Michelle Daniels?”

Considering it was written on a plaque outside of my door, it was often a wonder that anyone entered asking that question. “Yes, I am. How may I help you…?”

“Agent Melinda May. Can I come in?”

I didn’t recognize that name and that fact sent chills down my spine.

“Agent of  _what_ , exactly?” She stepped inside and closed the door. Cringing, I carefully eased myself back into my seat. Her hands went behind her back and she stood with her feet shoulder-width apart.  

A lot of combat training then.  

Most of the Nations stood like that, particularly when they entered hostile situations. The stance was reminiscent of America. He stood like that often while people mistook his open stance as a lack of defense. I watched as she removed a vaguely familiar device from her pocket and stuck it to the door. Something laced its way from it, circling the room. I said nothing and willed my stomach to stop turning.  

“Privacy is necessary, then?”

She eyed me before raising her chin. “I once went toe-to-toe with Alfred F. Jones. Kept talking about how awesome he was. Thought beating him might get him to shut up. He ended up kicking my ass.”  

Despite my calm exterior, which I fought to maintain, the anxiety and energy that tore through my chest and flew down my arms was dizzying. “Can’t say I know anybody by that name? Former student of mine? Are they in trouble?”

Agent May looked like she wanted to scoff, but instead her expression remained placid. “The guy’s not much of an academic type.”  

 _He has three PhDs_ , I wanted to say.  _One of them in astrophysics._  But I didn’t.  

“Well, it’s not for everyone.”

“Coulson said you’d play along. Said Alfred had confidence in you. An  _obnoxious_  amount of confidence.”  

Most things about Alfred were obnoxious. There was that fond feeling I’d been fighting off for months, welling its way back up into my heart again.  

“As I said, I don’t know an ‘Alfred.’” I felt a swing of pride in myself for staying so outwardly calm. Really, I wanted to shout. “Now… how can I help you, Agent May?”

She seemed to lower her guard a bit (which I knew was a pretense to make me feel more comfortable) and she shifted to sit in the chair across from my desk. Just as Agent Coulson had done last semester.  

“Your name came up in a HYDRA bust. Any idea why?”

“Probably because I don’t know people like Alfred, right?”

She nodded. “That’s what we figured, but there were some interesting facts in their database.” She paused and eyed me carefully. “They’ve got your number.”  

HYDRA…had my number. Fear lanced through me. If they had  _my_  number, then they had Bucky’s number too. I couldn’t let— Shaking my head, I refocused. “Current address? Have I been watched?” I prayed the answer was ‘no,’ but I knew better. “Exactly how much do they know?”

“Enough. Enough to make you more interesting than you seem.” She looked around at my office. “Enough that being a  _history_  professor suits you.”  

I could feel the color melt from my face. 

Heaving in a breath and then another, I tried to stay calm.  

“Do they— Alfred and his associates, that is—do  _they_  know?”

Her eyes narrowed. “They don’t.”  

I sagged. The Nations didn’t know I was compromised. It wasn’t just about being associated with them anymore.  

“HYDRA will come for you. It’s only a matter of time.” 

Huffing a dry laugh, I tried not to be too sardonic about the whole thing. The concern I had was not for me, but for my friend who was waiting for me at the townhouse, at home. I had to get him out of there, out of the country. I had to get him away. Hide him. 

How could I protect him from the world? 

I leveled Agent May a steady stare. “Thank you for the warning.”

“SHIELD can protect you.”  

“Is there any indication they’ll strike today?” 

“They seem preoccupied, but within forty-eight hours at the most.” She shifted. “You have enough time to get some things from your home. I will send some agents to escort you.”

“I’ll be fine if they can meet me at my house.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. It seemed SHIELD was still rebuilding itself and didn’t quite have the manpower. “Two agents will be there to take you to a safe house.” In the next moment, her cellphone was cradled to her shoulder. It seemed something else had come up in the five minutes she had spent in my office. She grabbed the silencing tech as she moved out of my office. 

As soon as she disappeared around the corner, I whipped around.

I grabbed the thumb drive from my drawer, the one with Egypt’s message. I looked up Hungary’s email from months before and wrote down the numbers that accompanied the letters within the alphanumeric email address she’d used. I knew the game. She’d taught me it herself.  

Grabbing my cellphone, I tapped the numbers in and hooked it on my shoulder just as the agent had done. I grabbed my bag, turned out the lights, and lifted my cane. As I hobbled down the dimly lit hallway, I heard someone pick up on the other end of the line.

“ _I need help_.”  

–*~*~*–

“Bucky, we have to go.”  

He didn’t look surprised. Instead, he just nodded and went to the corner where a black bag kept all of the things he needed to be on the run. We’d assembled it months ago, for the day we knew would eventually come. I even went to a few survival stores outside of town to get supplies. “How long?”

“A day at most.” I hurried past him to the kitchen closet, leaving my cane by the door. Throwing the pantry closet open, I sat aside the trashcan and grabbed the backpack that sat in the corner. Heaving it up, I went to unplug the coffeemaker. It seemed like an odd thing to do and I couldn’t quite figure out why I went to do that.  

“You’re not coming.” Bucky was pulling on his worn leather jacket.  

“You’re not going without me.”  

I turned and grabbed the black cane with the studier base from the coatrack by the door. It was made of higher quality metal, designed by Germany himself. I rarely used it, but it seemed like the best option at the moment. Reinforced everything. I grabbed my coat.  

“I…have those connections, remember? I just…I need you to trust me.”  

I stopped in front of him.  

Bucky looked down at me. His expression was carefully void.  

“I trust you. But you’re not comin’.”  

I stood my ground, waiting for a moment as he slung his back to rest on his shoulder. He seemed to see something in my face or in my eyes. Bucky took half a step back, like he was going to take off without me. “SHIELD came to my office. HYDRA will be coming, Bucky. I need to get you—” His face hardened, jaw muscles tightening as he jerked his head toward the back door. “Bucky—”

“C’mon.”  

We went to the back door and down to the garage below the townhouse. Bucky unlocked the garage door as the sun beat down onto us, much too hot for March. Throwing the door upward, he stepped into the darkness and my eyes adjusted to the darkness.  

Bucky threw his leg over Johnny’s motorcycle and tossed his bag into the back storage container. My heart leapt into my throat at the idea of riding on the back of that thing. Holding out a black helmet, Bucky nodded to my backpack. “Can you put your cane in that thing?”  

I collapsed the cane and pushed it into the bottle holder on the side, situating the bag onto my bag and taking the helmet.  

“I’m trusting you, sweetheart. Trust me.” Swallowing down my fear, I walked to the other side of the bike and pulled my bad leg over the seat. I leaned forward and wrapped both arms around his torso. A gloved hand rested over my right hand. “’s gonna be alright, doll. Where’re we going?”  

“Hudson Valley.”

He jerked his foot up and the motorcycle started up, making a thrill of terror tear through me.  

We took off like a shot. It took everything in me not to turn around and watch as the townhouse disappeared from sight, the garage door open for the world to peruse. I had to hope that SHIELD would arrive shortly after and close up the place before it was ransacked. I had to hope that John would forgive me. That is, if I ever saw him again.  

When we arrived at the airport, my legs were weak and shaking. A trip that normally took two hours on U.S. 9 took less than forty-five minutes. Bucky skillfully wove us in and out of traffic, surprisingly enough, saw the police early enough to avoid a chase. To get up to the tiny airport in Poughkeepsie, we’d essentially lived out a spy-on-the-run scene and I could barely wrap my head around it.  

I saw an old man in front of the designated hanger, sitting in a worn folding lawn chair with a newspaper open in his hands. I made my way toward him, Bucky trailing along cautiously behind me.  

Steadying myself on my cane, I greeted him the way I’d been instructed to: “Lake Balaton is lovely this time of year.”  

The old man shifted and looked up at me.  “Like a flower.”  

I smiled. He folded the newspaper and stood, shoulders hunched with age.  

“You must be Miss Michelle. She has told me a great deal about you.” He reached out a hand and raised my knuckles to his lips. Then he patted my hand with the sort of gentle kindness a grandfather might have. “I am István. I will get you to safety.” His attention flickered to the man behind me. “My Lady told me that you would have another accompany you.”  

Bucky nodded, but said nothing. Still his eyes said more than his mouth ever could. I positioned myself in front of him, redirecting the old man’s attention to me once more.  

“They may want to hurt him, too.”  

They absolutely would hurt him. 

They already had.

“I have hidden my family, Miss Michelle. I understand. HYDRA has been hunting me for some time.” He gestured for us to follow him. “I will be taking you to a house on the network. New documents can be prepared on the way there.” The old man climbed up the waiting jet’s stairs and stopped at the top. “You are not the first or only people that I have gotten to safety. My Lady has saved others across the globe— people like her. People who are different.”  

Nations? Hungary had saved other Nations and States? 

What had been happening?  

My hands started to shake, so I propped on my bookbag strap and the other grasped my cane.

Somehow, they’d learned more about me. 

If SHIELD knew they were coming, then…someone had been compromised.  

It was the only way.  

István almost seemed excited as he went to the cockpit and fired up the engines. “It’s going to be a long flight. You just get comfortable. We are, as you say, way under the radar and to the wind.” I looked at the plane’s interior and went to settle myself into the first of six seats. Bucky surveyed the space and sat in the seat beside mine.  

“Who exactly do you know, Michelle?” His voice was low and critical. He looked supremely uncomfortable and I couldn’t blame him. “You weren’t kidding when you said your friends were well-connected, were you?”

“You remember when I told you about my friend from Hungary?” He nodded and plane started to gain speed. We were taking off almost immediately after exiting the hanger. I wondered if Hungary had cut any deals for SHEILD tech like this plane, or if she’d replicated it after the information dump.  

Anything to get jobs done. 

Elizabeta was resourceful. 

She’d do whatever she needed to do.

“My friend is…wealthy.”

“Yeah, got that impression.”

Huffing out a laugh, I nodded. I figured she probably wasn’t using state funds for this side venture. She had to be drawing on her centuries-old savings. “She’s, um, a pretty fierce proponent of freedom and…she’s got connections all over the world. She’s intimidating as hell, but— She’s a good person. I called her. We needed to get out of the country.”  

Looking out of the window, I could see New York City far below. 

“She’s one of the people that got me out of Austria, Bucky.” I wound my hands around and around, looking to him. “She got me out.” 

Bucky stared at me a moment before nodding. 


	5. Peaches and Plums

The curtains were drawn when we stepped into the apartment. Nevertheless, light filtered around those drapes and dimly lit the living room and kitchen. I pushed past the door and set my backpack on the round table next to the kitchen’s breakfast bar. Bucky moved in behind me before checking the hallway and closing the door. The finality in the way he locked it made me wonder if we’d be leaving the apartment any time soon. His expression said he’d do many security sweeps before I made a grocery run.

“It’s…nice.”

Huffing a laugh, I stepped toward the living room. “Does she realize she’s running a safe house network…not a bed and breakfast?” Sitting on the coffee table was a note, the lettering immediately telling me who had left it. I sank onto the sofa and tiredly ran my hands over my face before picking up the bit of paper. Hungary’s handwriting had always been heavy-handed with no flourishes, a distinct left tilt to her all-caps letters. Bucky went to the window and peered from the side of the closed curtains out onto the small side street.

_The bakery down the street has good dobostorta._

_Be safe, my friend._

When I visited Budapest last spring break, Elizabeta introduced me to the that particular cake. It was late in the evening when we found ourselves in a small bakery on the outskirts of town. We bought a whole cake for the two of us. Hungary taught me bits and pieces of her language while the old owner of the bakery smiled from behind a newspaper.

“Your friend write that?”

Glancing up to Bucky, I nodded and pressed the note into my jacket pocket. “She said there’s a good cake place down the road.” He just watched me, waiting for something more. “She told us to be safe. Seems kinda impossible at the moment.” Sighing, I raised a hand to my hair and pursed my lips. I fingered the strands between my fingers, just in my line-of-sight. “They’re looking for a brunette with a limp. I stand out in a crowd too much. They’ll find us.”

“Wear a ball cap when you go out.”

“Nothing is  _ever_  that easy, Bucky.”

“People wanna see normal.”

“I’m not normal.” I patted my leg meaningfully. “Not anymore.”

He walked past me toward what I assumed to be the bedroom. I pushed myself up and followed him, noticing that the closet seemed full. Forcing down my inappropriate amusement at what I knew to be one of Elizabeta’s favorite past times, I pulled the closet door open a bit wider. Trust Hungary to outfit us. That woman  _loved_  her fashion. I took down a black t-shirt and held it in my hands. “Looks like she got your size right.”

“She’s got every size. It’s a safe house.”

The logic of what he said made sense, but part of me wanted to reconcile that with the friend I knew. The one that was constantly trying to get me out of my Oxford tops and circle skirts. If I could do that, then maybe I could leave this insane reality behind. Swallowing back the wave of fear that hit me, I tightened my grip on the t-shirt and turned toward Bucky.

“What can I do?”

“Stay away from the windows. Gonna secure the area. Then, we’ll talk.”

He glanced away from the window. He didn’t quite trust this situation and I couldn’t blame him. Part of me didn’t trust it either, though I knew that Elizabeta would do everything within reason to help me. That distrust hung in the air between us and it almost felt as if it drew along the back of my arms.

Bucky gave me a once-over. “Okay?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

I paid cash.

Even after two nights holed up in the apartment, it felt like reality was…not. It was something like dissociation, like I was seeing the past few days from the eyes of someone else. It reminded me of another time when I’d arrived in Eastern Europe, when ‘I’ was ‘she.’ Bodies dangling and blood on the floor. I’d never told Bucky about that episode. It seemed too difficult to explain.

How do you go about explaining something like that?

So I tried to forget it.

Still, the images occasionally cropped up in my mind.

It was hard to forget.

When he went out to patrol and secure the building, and I went through the supply closets, it felt like this could be anyone else’s life but my own. Then again, life had been feeling like that for years.  Bucky found local bills hidden behind a brick at the back of the closet. Enough money to be stable for a few weeks while we got settled.

Or moved on.

The latter seemed more likely.

We wouldn’t stay here for long.

We couldn’t.

We’d discussed as much on our first night.

Staying in one place for too long was impossible.

A small salon was my first stop during our day out to ‘supply up.’ My limp was distinguishing. As much as I knew how people averted their eyes when I approached, I still stood out in a crowd. My style, hair, traits, and limp made me easy to pick out. Easy to find. So, for the first time since undergrad, I changed my hairstyle and hair color.

The change was one that might’ve made me sick just a few weeks prior. I was a creature of habit after all. I liked things to remain unchanged as much as possible. When things  _did_  change, I often had to take time to adjust and find balance again. I tried to shed that habit, like the comforts of my cardigans and collared shirts.

I stepped out of the salon with board-straight black hair and an anxiety attack.

Because  _of course_  the hair should freak me out more than the escape from New York City on the back of a motorcycle with my arms around Bucky Barnes.

A few blocks away from the salon, Bucky rejoined me. His ball cap sat low on his forehead and his long hair was tucked behind his ears. “You don’t look half-bad.”

Instead of answering, I just sent him a bland smile. I tried not to glance into every store window to look at my reflection. The urge was irresistible, almost as if I wanted to verify that I was still me.  

With the slightest smirk, he handed me a black ball cap. “Covert ops, remember?”

Snorting, I pulled the cap over my hair. “And suddenly, you can’t see me. Right?”

For the first time since we’d arrived in Szeged, he smiled.

“Always see you, sweetheart.”

“You’re a regular Cary Grant, Buck.”

We rounded the corner into Mars Square, where the market was in full swing. People were moving this way and that between and through yellow, white, and red tents. We edged along outside of the tents, keeping our heads down and focusing mainly on the vegetables and fruits.

Some beautiful strawberries were on display and I stopped to gather some up while Bucky discreetly surveyed the crowd. In my broken Hungarian, I asked for about three dollars-worth. I’d never learn enough Hungarian to pass as fluent. The language was exceedingly difficult. It made Arabic look like a walk in the park. After the man had packaged the strawberries up, I stuffed them into my tote and thanked him, moving toward the vegetable stand nearby.

“Keep your head down.”

“Do you—Do you want carrots?” I stumbled through the phrase in Hungarian while Bucky tucked a hand onto my hip and curl around my shoulder to pick up a carrot. Turning my head, I lowered my voice to whisper into his neck. “How long can we keep this up?”

“As long as we need to.”

It was hard to argue that, so I didn’t. I just kept my head lowered and focused on collecting enough carrots for my mother’s glazed recipe. And I tried not to find comfort in his hand on my hip. I tried not to like that feeling too much. I quickly told the old woman behind the table I wanted six of the carrots. She gave me a knowing look.

“Your husband is a handsome one.”

“They’re gone,” Bucky murmured into my ear. He glanced to the woman’s smile. “ _Kinscem_.”

With no idea what that meant, I aimed a plastic grin at the old woman, hurriedly stuffing a bushel of carrots into my bag. I stepped away from him and the warmth of his flesh hand disappeared from my hip. We moved carefully through the marketplace, gathering whatever we needed to survive indoors for the near future. Or, at least, I would be indoors. Bucky ran patrols every half hour or so. I only allowed myself to linger in the small apartment complex courtyard every so often, when I needed fresh air.

Peaches and plums were in season. Bucky placed several in the shopping bag and fished money from the back pocket of his jeans. He conversed in slightly stunted Hungarian, far better than I could ever hope to do with the language.

Despite knowing the Nation herself, I couldn’t recall anything further than a few random facts about the country. There was a laptop back at the apartment. I’d been using it to catch Bucky up on some significant events we hadn’t yet arrived to when we were in NYC.

I was going to teach myself. It would pass the time. I would know more. I needed to know more about the land I was on and the people I stood among.

Vaguely, I wondered how my students were going to react when a substitute stepped in for the last few weeks of the term. They’d ask where I’d disappeared to, why I left. At the thought, I lost myself somewhere near the cabbages, pausing midway to check an onion. My hand halted there in midair. They would have final exams coming up. And I had a faculty meeting last week I missed.

Maybe I had died again back in the states?

I never did get those study guides to Peter.

There was no telling what Elizabeta or SHIELD had done to cover my tracks.

Had a death certificate been created?

What about my mother?

What about Corey? Jessie?

The thoughts made my hand begin to shake a bit over the onions.

I wondered if I’d ever get to be  _myself_  again rather than— Olivia Palmer from Mississippi.

Then again, I realized, I hadn’t been myself in years.

“C’mon, Michelle.” Bucky tucked me into his side.

It wasn’t until we arrived back to the apartment that I let the anxiety to take over. Hurriedly, I sat the bag of produce on the counter and ran to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. The attack was swift and unrelenting, making chills travel up and down my spine, settling as it always did, at the back of my neck. Like nails were being dragged down between my shoulder blades. Breathing deeply, I tried to get control as I sank to the floor by the bed. I pressed my back against the mattress and closed my eyes.

Maybe the hair really had triggered a panic attack.

It was more than that, but it was the only trigger I could actually pinpoint. I’d been fine until the color brush touched my roots. After that, the panic just continued to build.

He smelled vaguely of the plums he’d eaten on the way back to the apartment. I felt him sink to the floor next to me. He said nothing. His flesh shoulder touched mine, but he made no other move to lay a hand on me. I lifted my head and tried to collect myself, pushing the emotions back and back and back. Like I did so many times before— when it seemed like one panic and anxiety cascaded into another and another until suddenly, I was mourning more than just my hair and my job.

 _You’ve been through worse._ I kept repeating that as I covered my face with my hands.  _Others have been through worse. He’s been through worse._ Angling myself away from him, I tried to pull the checkered sleeves to my palms so I could wipe the tears away.

_Get it together, Daniels._

The same thoughts, or variations of them.

“Don’t do that, Michelle.”

Sucking in a breath, I turned to him with bleary eyes. I admit I was startled when his metal arm tentatively wrapped around my shoulders. The amount of strength that took him was incredible and I watched with wide eyes as he didn’t even flinch at the pain it likely sent through his shoulder. His metal hand tugged at my shoulder.

He looked so certain. It was at times like these when he seemed the most grounded, more like a mix between him then and him now. Bucky—no variation of him-then and Him. “You do it too much, doll.”  _Doll._ Bucky angled forward and brought his flesh hand to the back of my head and held me to him. It was all so careful, like my bones would break if he held me too tightly. Like it was the first time he’d hugged in—“Tryin’ to be strong… You don’t gotta do that anymore.”

For a few seconds, I angled my face up and tried to keep the storm in check, but then it was like the other side of the hurricane struck shore and I crumbled.

There were no empty assurances it would ‘all be okay.’

No hushing sounds.

No hesitant back pats.

No careful words.

Something shifted in that Hungarian bedroom, with the orange light of sunset wrapping around the curtains. It wasn’t until the light had faded to a dull blue that I pulled back and stared at him, eyes heavy and feeling thick. He raised his flesh hand and pushed the hair out of my face, pressing the palm to my left cheek. “I—I’m—”

“Don’t.”

_I’m sorry._

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Michelle.”

Pressing my lips together, I nodded once then realized that there was so much about me he didn’t know. So much I was keeping hidden behind all the walls I’d built. Things I thought would protect him. But here we were—on the run, because  _I_ was the one being chased down. Irony. Nervousness made my hand shake as I hesitantly reached up to mirror his action. The scruff of his cheek was rough on my hand. His eyes closed under my touch.

“Nobody’s touched me so sweet in years.”

I was too aware of my own breathing. We were walking a red-string tight rope here. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, Bucky. A lot I left out before.” 

_About the Nations._

_About the past._

_About the world._

_About all of it._

Sitting back, I dropped my hand from his face and pressed it to my jeans. The scratch of his stubble left my hand feeling charged somehow. His hand dropped as well and his eyes opened. I blinked, trying to focus and see reason again. “Let me tell you the rest.”

“Only if you wanna. You don’t have to tell me anything, Michelle. That’s not how this works.” He held my stare. He looked so sure. Something about the set of his jaw and the tilt of his lips. I  _felt_  it. I couldn’t say how. “I can’t tell you everything. I won’t.” This wasn’t a trade.

“You don’t have to tell me either, Bucky. I just—I want you to know. I…I need you to know.” Biting my lip, I looked away and tried to find the courage to say everything out loud. “Those friends I told you about? The mutants?” I looked for the right way to go about this. “They’re more than that…They’re—”


	6. Alfred

I could remember days at Egypt’s house in Alexandria when it seemed the ongoing war was distant. Far enough away at least that we could occasionally distract ourselves. Days when it Egypt would sit out on the veranda with me, correcting my Arabic. Those moments were few, but they still came around. Like the center of a hurricane.

When I lived with John in New York, our lives  _seemed_  simple—even if they actually weren’t. We put up a good façade. Normality was comfortable. Normality didn’t ask us to give up the little moments. So John and I developed a routine. The routines were a process of not acknowledging things: that was fiction, I didn’t belong, this still didn’t feel right, it’s okay. It’s okay, Michelle. Just let it go. We’d barely talk to each other for a few days and then we slid right back into Normal.

Bucky was cleaning his gun on the floor in front of the couch. His back was to me.

I was moving through the internet, keeping myself as appraised as I could on the goings-on. There was now talk of Thaddeus Ross becoming the new Secretary of State. Repairs in Washington D.C. had just been completed. It seemed that the ongoing debate was essentially: who is footing the bill?

As strange as it was, I’d actually had my students write a response to that question while framing it toward discussion of past reparations. I wondered vaguely if whoever had taken over my term had encouraged students to look at current events. The 10:30am class especially excelled at bringing the past and present into conversation. They were my talkative bunch. A group of business ma—

“Turn that up. I recognize it.”

Tapping one of the keys on the keyboard, the swell of brass tweeted out a bright tune. It was a piece from my 1940s playlist. I watched the back of Bucky’s head. His hair was dirty again. He felt like he would leave me undefended if he took too long to shower. Slowly, he turned to face me, confusion written on his face. And he’d stopped shaving as well. Nevertheless, his eyes seemed a bit more clear.

“Miller?”

“Glenn Miller, yeah.”

His eyes went a little unfocused before he blinked up at me. There was a younger version of him there, the twenty-something that listened to big band with his buddies and never drew up short with a woman. One that I saw forever-ago in a Brooklyn diner. “I saw him…Miller…with Stevie. Back  _then_. Before the war. I just got a copy… before the fall.” Then he smiled slightly. The smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. “ _Really solid Tennessee excursion_ …” With a light laugh, his head leaned back onto my thigh and his eyes closed. He hummed along and I could feel the vibrations on my leg.

My memories of the song were somewhat different.

John. October 1941. A gentle pull into a this-way-and-that next to the rocking chair in Arthur’s study. He told me not to worry, that things would be fine.  _“It’s gonna be alright, doll face.”_ The dread must have been clear on my face because his hands tightened and pulled me this way and that. I let him.x

Later that same night, I spoke to Alfred.

He offered me a house in Kansas City, hidden away from the world. He offered me a life. He pleaded with me not to be a hero. He asked me how long I could hold my breath. I never let him see how scared I really was.

Then, that monster…and Prussia.

And Egypt.

That night started with John and his attempt to make me feel a life outside of that mess, set to the wail of a Chattanooga Choo-Choo. John had always been a shelter. To the point that I…forgot that I couldn’t live like that— relying on him for stability. Me and John, we liked to believe in our own escapes a little too much.

Bucky pushed himself up to stand, leaving his finished gun on the floor by the coffee table. His hands brushed down his chest and I noticed his attention darting to all the vulnerabilities in our small apartment. The door, the windows…Then, he turned.

I raised my eyes to look up at him and his outstretched flesh hand. The palm was up, vulnerable. There was a distinct mischievousness in his eyes, the kind that always made him seem more alive. The kind that made him seem like that boy from Brooklyn. He didn’t say anything, just raised a brow and waited.

My stomach plummeted and knotted and stretched and made me feel ill and giddy. Because this was stupid. And this was thrilling. My hand reached out before I even thought about it, on instinct. Like I always answered John. He pulled me up effortlessly and helped me around the table to the empty space between the entertainment center and the sitting group. The light around the curtains was bright with the midday Hungarian sun and, as the song shifted to another Miller piece, we swayed.

“That’s Johnny Best.”

It was a careful sort of dance.

His metal hand was so light on my lower back that I could barely feel it there. “Saw them perform this once. I barely remember it.” Like a lot of things, still. It was there, like a sepia-toned memory that seemed out-of-place, but so real that I could feel the blare of the horns in my ears and the scratch of my suit on my arms. It was mine—my memory— but it shouldn’t have been.

“Saw ‘em in ’42. With  _him._  Again. And some girls.” There was that distance in his voice again, like he was far off in his memories, seeing them as they returned. They were probably sepia, like mine. They probably felt like they weren’t his. Or weren’t real.

They were his.

“You were already gone  _then,_ weren’t you? Woulda never had a chance.”

Bucky’s voice…always had something of a sigh in it, a kind of breathiness that came with all he had been through. And I could feel the sigh in the curve of my neck.

Dangerous. Oh, this was dangerous. The thought struck me like lightning and I felt my muscles jolt and my hands tighten. His head dipped down to catch my eyes, as if he wanted to know what had startled or frightened me. I looked away as quickly as a I could, toward the sun rays cutting through the curtains.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

The question was out of my mouth before I thought about it ruining the moment.

Whatever that moment was.

He leaned back. I could feel the brush of cold metal on my hip as we continued to sway and his flesh hand tightened in mine. Nearly a week ago, we’d been as close, but I was losing myself to anxiety and memories then and now… His head shook. “Forget it”

“They’ll find us eventually. When they do… I’m not saying that we  _have_ to split up. I’m just saying it’s good to have plans. You’ll have an easier time gettin’ outta Dodge without— Look, it’s still in the working phase, alright? But it’s still—”

“ _Forget it_ , Michelle.”

“No. I’m not gonna  _forget it_ , Bucky.” I started to pull away from the dance, but his metal hand tightened on my jeans, so I settled for looking right back at him and squaring my shoulders. We stopped swaying. “This is the smartest decision. You’re a strategist. You know how to read the terrain.”

“I’m  _not_ leaving you behind.” With that said, he dropped his hold and stepped back.

“That’s not what—”

“What do ya think HYDRA’ll do when they find you, huh? Ask for a history lesson?” I stayed where I was while he ran a hand through his hair. He looked equal parts desperate and pissed off. “They’ll  _destroy_  you, Michelle. And that’s after they learn everything you got to offer. There’s nothing they won’t do.”

“I know that, but—”

“It’s not up for discussion then.” Like that, he turned and starting walking toward the kitchen as if the conversation (see: argument) was over. I felt a flare of anger ignite in my chest as I followed him.

“I can stay hidden. If they find me then I can—”

He whirled around and I stopped cold. “What? Then what? This won’t be like Austria. This won’t be like Romania.” Bucky took a step toward me and then thought better of it, lowering his hands. “You think one of your Country friends is gonna step in again? They won’t, Michelle. The risk would be too high. There won’t  _be_  a rescue. You’ll just be another body on a mountain of bodies.”

I felt my breath catch.

Something like terror ripped through my chest, but I pushed it down and away. At that moment, I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. “You’re not gonna make it with me in tow, Bucky. Let’s just get it outta the air. If they come, I won’t make it out. You have to have a plan— somewhere to go when that happens.”

The muscles in his jaw worked and I could see that he was trying so hard to control his anger. Under his metal hand, the granite countertop cracked. His eyes trailed from my face to the fracture lines and back again. After a moment, he took a breath and his shoulders relaxed. “How do I always end up with the idiots who’d rather make the sacrifice play, huh?” Bucky looked back to me and gave me a half-smile. I felt the tension in my chest melt a little. “Steve never won these arguments. You won’t either.”

“I have a plan. Hopefully, it won’t end up with me dead.”

Bucky just shook his head. “There are better plans, sweetheart.” Carefully, he raised both hands and I didn’t move as he approached. The same hand that had cracked granite cradled my the back of my head. He gently pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’ve got better plans.”

I stayed there until I heard his shuffling disappear into the bathroom. Then, suddenly, I could hear things other than his voice again.

The last trumpet riffs trailed into silence.

-0-

I jolted awake, the dream still churning in my head. It’d been a dream that morphed into a nightmare. And it still kept me, clutching at reality. There was pop, like a gunshot, and I felt my adrenaline pull me out of the fog. Turning, I threw both legs over the side of the bed and stood, sinking both feet into my prepared boots.  _Where was Bucky?_ Terror ripped through me at another pop. That wasn’t a gunshot. It didn’t sound like any gunshot’s I’d ever heard. This time, it was closer than before. Now, I could hear footsteps, growing closer. I reached down for the gun on the nightstand and clicked the safety off.

The door to the bedroom was flung open and a flashlight cut through the darkness into my eyes.

I took aim.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! What the—Shit!”

The flashlight crashed to the floor and the guy in the doorway went flying into the opposite wall, body-checked by a shadow with shaggy hair. Bucky stood framed in the light from the living room. It took a few moments for me to register two facts: (1) I was aiming a gun at Bucky now and (2) I recognized that voice.

Immediately, I lowered the gun and turned toward the groaning shadow in the corner. The wall was in pieces above him as he struggled to stand, cursing steadily under his breath. Bucky raised his own gun and I saw the flash of glasses. “Bucky! Bucky! Hold on!” I rushed around the bed and went to his side. His narrowed eyes never once looked to me. “I know him. I—” Turning, I flipped on the light and quickly stepped in front of Bucky.

“What’re you doing here?”

Alfred laughed a little and winced, sitting with his back to the wall and a hand pressed to his right side. “You pack a wallop, don’t ya? Don’t think I’ve been hit that hard in a decade at least.”

“Answer the question, Alfred.”

The embodiment of America turned his eyes to me and the good humor melted off of his face. In its place was a cold sort of acceptance. “You pointed a gun at me, Shelly. Geez.”

“You could’ve been HYDRA for all I knew.”

I tried to hide the shaking of my hands by gently pressing one of my palms to Bucky’s arm. He looked down at me and I looked back at him. A whole conversation in just a few moments, and it was a bunch of me telling him to  _get out of there_  and a whole bunch of him saying  _forget it._ Sighing, I refocused on Alfred as Bucky put the gun back into his holster and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Did you get a running start or what?” Alfred quipped at Bucky, pushing himself up to stand. He adjusted his glasses as he moved. Maybe he thought I couldn’t see the analysis in his eyes or the way his attention darted over every minute detail of the room. “I seriously gotta start workin’ out more. This is embarrassing.”

“What. are. you. doing. here?”

“You think I can’t tell when I’m being lied to?”

_“Do they— Alfred and his associates, that is—do they know?”_

_Her eyes narrowed. “They don’t.”_

“Alfred…”

“HYDRA was never supposed to find out about you.” His glasses caught the light like they sometimes did when he was courting that darker persona that lingered beneath the surface. “Nah, Shelly. No one else knows where you are. Just me and  _Elizabeta_.” 

Oh, I could see it there. In the smallest tick of his lips. That fact pissed him off.

“ _She_  made contact with  _me_ , Al.”

“She wasn’t supposed to. That’s the point of going silent.  _No one_  was supposed to.”

“ _You_ weren’t supposed to, Alfred. How normal do you think I looked when Phil Coulson and Melinda May showed up to my office hours, huh? The whole reason I am here,  _here,_  alive, is because Elizabeta got me out. HYDRA knew where I was. They knew what I knew. And I had more to worry about than just me. What  _the hell_  is wrong with you?” He stood a little straighter, like he always did when he felt he was right and no one else was. It was like arguing with a brick wall. “Alfred, please…explain.”

His attention flickered over my shoulder to where Bucky was watching the whole exchange.

“It was Canada, Shell.”

It felt like the floor had collapsed underneath me. 

I felt my stomach grasp around my heart.

 _Oh dear God, no._ “Is—Is he—”

“He’s fine. Nothin’ he can’t handle. He’s been through worse, but you know that.” Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “HYDRA has ways of…rewarding compliance. We got him out. He said he can’t remember much, but…I’m the one that told SHIELD that HYDRA knew. Then, you’re off-the-grid and the house is up in flames and I was barely able to get Corey outta Busan before all hell broke loose.” A terrified chill shot down my spine and I felt a hand take hold of my forearm. Bucky now stood directly behind me. “Your mom and your sister are safe. I made sure of it. HYDRA can’t get to them.”

Alfred’s eyes flickered down to the metal fingers against my skin and his brows knitted together. 

“Alfred—”

“I came to drop off some supplies on my way to another safe house. Not exactly protocol, not exactly what Elizabeta wanted when I maybe-kinda…threatened her, but hey— when’ve I ever followed protocol, huh? Protocol’s for dweebs and Brits.”

He brushed off his jacket and smiled. It had never looked more plastic.

“I just, ya know, didn’t expected to get pummeled when I dropped by. Didn’t really expect…How’d you pick up America’s Most Wanted here, anyway? Elizabeta never mentioned…” I felt the hand on my arm tighten a bit. Alfred clearly noticed. His eyes narrowed. “Hey, easy now, Full Metal. Just curious.”

“She took me in.”

“Yeah,” Alfred nodded. “I figured.”

“Then why ask?”

Alfred shrugged. “Assets gonna asset and all that, I dunno.”

Asset. I felt my stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

I felt Bucky shift behind me. My heart jumped into my throat at the way Alfred’s stance adjusted. It was an echo of a lot of memories and nightmares.

“Supplies?” Trying to draw Alfred’s attention to me, I stepped forward and twisted my wrist out of Bucky’s hold. “What kind of supplies?”

“Gotta go get ‘em now that I know where you are! It’d be hella dangerous to carry those things around in plain sight!” Hesitating, I looked back to Bucky again. I stood midway between him and Alfred, our bodies forming a narrow triangle. Alfred was dusting himself off. “I’ll head out in a minute and go get ‘em!”

Bucky didn’t move, but I could see it set of his jaw, the square of his shoulders, and the blue of his eyes– the darkest shade of blue. The darkest shade of blue that asked me to trust him. Again. And again. Infinitely.  _You think one of your Country friends is gonna step in again? They won’t, Michelle._ That’s when it hit me. He must’ve seen the flash of realization in my eyes because his expression hardened and he minutely glanced toward the closet.

Swallowing down the sweep of nerves, I stepped out of the way as Bucky raised his gun and fired. 


	7. Duty

My hands were shaking as I grabbed the backpack from the corner of the closet. It was the same one I’d packed in New York. Now, it was stuffed with things needed for survival on the run: packs of camping food, a stack of bills, a prepaid cellphone that had not yet been turned on. I felt Bucky come up behind me to grab his own pack, a hand settling on my shoulder. I swallowed and nodded, attempting to stay calm as I fished another pack of lei from Elizabeta’s stash of money. “The body?”

The weight of Bucky’s hand on my shoulder slid away and I turned to face him. He walked out of the closet and I followed, turning back around to make sure that we had everything that we needed. Deciding it was as much as I could manage, I stuffed the ballcap onto my head and followed. There was a strange sort of resignation in my chest.

Bucky had dragged the body of Alfred Jones into the kitchen, situating it between the stove and the island. Pressing my lips together, I tried not to see my friend and Nation on the floor.

Instead, I tried to see it for what it was: a robot.

It was a Life Model Decoy, an LMD.

A HYDRA robot with the face of my Nation.

The very thought had my arms feeling numb.

As soon as the bullet hit its forehead, the android had collapsed, sparks jumping from the mess of destroyed wires between it’s blue eyes. The glasses it had worn had shattered on the floor of our bedroom. Now that I looked closer, there was something off about every part of him. The shoes were too new. The leather jacket held less scars and scratches. I should’ve _known_  from the moment I saw him. I should have seen it. Sensed it. I should have known.

To anyone else, it might’ve been Alfred F. Jones.

But it wasn’t America.

“How’d they know so much about him?”

Silently, Bucky moved forward to push the stove from the counter. I knew where this was going and went to grab my cane from the table. I opened the door to the hallway and waited for his instruction. It’d be only minutes before we were cornered. HYDRA was surely coming. Who knew what other tricks they had up their many sleeves? Bucky slammed a booted foot down onto the gas pipe and then strode toward me, not even acknowledging the fact that his foot hit the body on the floor.

We were nearly three blocks away when the explosion rocked our once quiet neighborhood.

“Damn it.”

Bucky’s arm hooked around my shoulder as he tugged me into an alley. I kept pace, uneven steps feeling like a hinderance as we picked up speed. Some part of me could feel the shift happening. His gait was becoming more and more uneven, like mine only mirrored. As if the arm were weighing him down more, dragging one side lower as he sank into a faster walk. His metal hand tightened on my arm.

“Bucky, it’s—”

His head shook.

_Don’t, Michelle._

My heart was racing as we came to a dark collection of shadows underneath an overpass on the far eastern side of Szeged. Even under the path moonlight, I could see the graffiti paintings and the haphazard messy scrawl of less-skilled teens on the overpass walls. Bucky helped me over to a set of concealed stairs and I sat, watching him prowl back and forth, gun at the ready in one hand. A knife was in the other. I took a deep breath and swallowed to attempt to rid myself of the burning in my throat.

I wound my fingers around each other, considering the escape plans we’d devised over the course of the last month and a half. Bucky was still pacing, checking our vulnerable points to make sure we were once again off-the-grid. Our electronics were burners and we’d already dropped them in random trash bins on our way to our Szeged exit point.

“Romania is closest. We’re heading there.” He turned and held out his flesh hand. The gun was now holstered. His brows were creased together in as fierce a scowl as I had ever seen on him. I took it and let him haul me up. “Don’t say a damn thing about leaving you behind.” Bucky turned without waiting for my response and started walking.

If I were honest, I hadn’t even thought that far. The image of Alfred’s face with a hole between the eyes was keeping me distracted from more logical thoughts.

We kept to the shadows of the overpass until I saw Bucky’s shoulder set and his gait become more even. The click of my cane against the gravel was the only sound other than our footsteps at this time of night…or rather, morning. He held up a hand and I stopped, watching as he made his way over to a beat up burgundy hatchback parked beside a concrete column. He was in the car a second later, gesturing for me to get in.

Tossing the backpack into the floorboard, I fell into the seat and stuffed my cane into the space beside me and the door.

“We can’t get through the border in a stolen car.”

Bucky shot me a look. “You’re with _me_ , sweetheart.”

We took winding roads with no headlights. Bucky guided us through without issue, eyes constantly glancing toward the rearview in case we were being followed. How had HYDRA assembled such a lifelike android copy of Alfred? Were there other androids running around? What if they’d already usurped the real Nations? With the Nations absent, how would people realize the difference? What if that was the intent all along? The thoughts in my head whirled around to a time when I’d faced another version of Egypt. This was…

“Geneva. I need to get to Geneva.”

It was the closest place where I knew a Nation would be.

There was no way they’d all be able to stay away from the UN.

The silence that followed my words made my ears ring. He didn’t even acknowledge it. His hands didn’t tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders didn’t tense. Bucky gave absolutely no sign that he had heard me. Still, I felt certainty begin to settle in my shoulders.

“HYDRA created copies of the Nations. I have to—”

“You gotta  _what_ , Michelle?” His voice was steady and his eyes remained trained forward on the road. I stopped short. Logic. Reason. I had to find that again. Nevermind the fact that part of me wanted to just curl up and cry. Or the part of me that wanted to hunt down every Nation LMD. “That thing back there—Who was it supposed to be?”

“Alfred.” I hesitated and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Alfred Jones.”

Bucky glanced at me before focusing on the road again.

“The United States of America.”

That’s when his fingers tightened around the leather. I’d only ever used their human names with him, even after explaining the concept. It was just easier that way. “You can’t go to Geneva. If that thing showed up here, where do you think they got the information? How do you think they knew where we were?” I nodded, seeing the reason in his words. Bucky was right. If HYDRA Alfred showed up at the safe house, then we had to assume that the whole network had been compromised.

Because Hungary had likely been compromised.

“We’re throwing out her identities. Toss them out of the window up here.”

We were in the middle of farmland that reminded me of Kansas—acres upon acres of crops, flat land, and our solitary headlights on a straight-shot to nowhere. I withdrew his IDs, the spare license plate, and all of our papers. Manually, I rolled down the window and looked to Bucky again, hesitating. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, and I tossed them out.

“I need to get word to the Nations somehow.”

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

“Get where exactly?”

He sighed. “Bucharest. He—I have a safe house there. We’re going there.” He shot me a look. “Don’t argue.”

Saying nothing, I settled back into the seat and watched the night rush by the windows.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if Hungary had been compromised…another Hungary had taken her place.

-0-

“We’d drive to Florida every summer. We’d stay there for a whole week. My brother, sister, and I would fight over the back seat, knock-down, drag-out. My sister always won. Jessie would come along too, sometimes. The three of us stuffed into the middle. We always stopped at a Hardee’s on the way down to Destin. The same Hardee’s every time. Run-down, in the middle of nowhere. I never understood that. I hated that place.”

“Never had it.”

“Their food’s like cardboard. You’re not missing anything… I’ve never missed it more.” Huffing a laugh, I looked back toward the road. “Apparently, in this reality, our family went to Panama City Beach. Not Destin. I don’t know why something like that would change. Maybe since my grandfather is dead here? He hated Panama City, said it was too loud. Called it the ‘Redneck Riviera.’ All the pictures I knew from home…They aren’t here. Every time I go home, I get reminded of it.”

We rode in silence for a long time. As the sun rose higher, the towns grew larger. More and buildings stood between the road and the fields. Then, hills started to build up as we drove along country roads. By mid-morning, we were off the main road, heading toward a place Bucky remembered with “stuff we might need.”

And every time it entered my head to go warn the Nations…I realized how insignificant I really was in all this.

“I only remember Coney Island.” Bucky glanced to me as he took us around another tight curve. “The Cyclone. It was summer. Stevie was there.” After a few long moments, his eyes narrowed. “And Rebecca.”

“Your sister?”

“I took her to Coney once. Bought her some pretzels. That girl could put away pretzels like nothing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled and I smiled with him, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. It was the tone of voice he always used when he had remembered something new. As if, if he spoke too loud, the memory might shy away. “Little thing with a big pretzel and bows in her hair.” He pulled us to the side of the road next to a rusted-out storage house along a banking of hay. “We’re here. Stay in the car. Let me check everything out.”

I waited, looking over at the white houses and picket fences that stood nearby and the rolling hills that stood behind them. The morning sun was just starting to peek over the hills. A knock at the driver’s side window made me jump and I turned to see Bucky gesturing for me to follow him.

The building was shambles of corrugated iron stacked like a house of cards.

When I stepped into the cloud of dust inside, my eyes fell to a hole in the floor.

Bucky gestured for me to go first. He held out a hand for my cane and I handed it over, knowing it would be easier to move down the steps without it. I carefully stepped down the ladder and then edged my way over out of the way. 

My hands were shaking by the time I reached the bottom, the darkness just a little  _too familiar._

I should’ve thought first.

A little too dark. 

A little too concrete. 

A little too–

So many terrible things happened in places like this.

“Don’t let it control you.”

He was in front me in the next second, lowering himself until he could meet my eyes.

“We gotta be here, Michelle. We’ll get what we need. Focus.” He handed me his backpack and nodded, eyes flashing with that sort of fierce protectiveness he sometimes got when Bucky was in full control of himself. “C’mon.”

Nodding, I looked around the space. Whatever doubt that clawed at my heart and chest and shoulders was shoved away to the back of my mind. I didn’t have time to think about how many bad memories lingered in places without windows.

What looked to be an armory sat on the opposite wall. There were guns of various sizes. Knives and machetes to arm an entire Calvary. Bucky strode forward and pulled out a drawer on the far wall, grabbing things from inside and tossing them onto a cot in the corner. I stepped forward uncertainly, opening his pack to stuff the Romanian meal bars into the top pocket. My fingers brushed the cover of Bucky’s journal.

“I’ve met the guy before.” He bit his lip for a second. “That guy.”

I turned toward him before drawing the journal into my hands. “Alfred?”

“Back then.”

Flipping open to a random page, I first found a picture of Captain America. My eyes rose to Bucky’s and he looked doubtful. Questioning. Fearful. Uncertain. Caught.

“Stevie threatened to drag him behind the diner.”

Smiling, I nodded and looked down at worn picture. “Yes, he did.” He’d written these pages long before he met me. I closed it and set it carefully back into the bag. “Bucky, I still think I need to warn the Nations.” He stared at me for a long moment before turning back to the armory and weapons. “If HYDRA has just  _one_  sleeper robot thing that no one knows about—”

“Let it go. We’ll settle it in Bucharest.”

Moving away from the bag, I looked toward a wall situated just slightly under the stairs. I edged toward it, squinting my eyes in the shadows over at that end of the cavernous nightmare. A map of the world was tacked onto the concrete, worn with likely over twenty years of age. Its edges were browned and torn and frayed. The lines of color, once red and blue, were now blackened or faded. My eyes trailed over the names, written in Cyrillic.

My forefinger drew over Egypt’s name.

Sparks and blood flashed in my mind.

And strings.

Those strings were now wires.

Damn it.

“I am going to Geneva.”

I turned to see Bucky watching me, eyes seeming both empty and resolute.

Squaring my shoulders and raising my chin, I repeated myself. “I am going to Geneva, Bucky.” Because I’d seen Alfred’s head blown open? Because the copy was too close to exact? Because Hungary was in trouble? I couldn’t pinpoint a reason. There were too many. I kept my eyes on Bucky. All of those reasons really weren’t enough to leave him. And yet they were. But I couldn’t say that.

He watched for a moment, glancing once at the map to my right. Then, with a strange sort of sad resignation, he nodded and turned back to the wall of weapons. He didn’t make any move to grab more supplies. Instead, he just stood with his back to me. Then, he nodded once more. “Let’s get to Bucharest and then…” He sighed. “We’ll find a way to get you to Geneva.” 

He began packing once more a moment later.

My heart felt as if it were wrapped in a vice.

When I looked back to the map again, my shoulders rounded and I raised a shaking hand to rest over the United States. 

Part of me knew that I was making a wrong decision, but…

I pressed my forehead to the top of my hand and felt the draw of dust into my lungs.

Duty before…


	8. Bucharest

Bucharest was a beautiful city, one full of life and culture. At any other time, I would have loved to explore all the offerings of the city: the museums, theatres, cultural centers. Romania himself might’ve escorted me, if only to appease nearby Nations. Hungary might’ve held something over his head. He was still hesitant around me, particularly after the world seemed to begin and end with his alternate self. I could never shake the feeling that he supported the actions of the Alternate Nations. He never said as much. No one ever asked.

I looked down at the documents in my hand, not quite sure how Bucky had managed to get them. “I know a guy,” was all he said about it. I wouldn’t push for more information. The guilt that crinkled at the corners of his eyes made me wonder how and why. “Plane leaves at 0500 tomorrow.”

With that, he walked away and didn’t look back.

I could feel my hands shaking.

Bucky disagreed with my decision.

Too reckless.

“It’s a stupid plan and you’re a smart woman.”

Still, he couldn’t shake me from it.

Because— despite however much I wanted to—I couldn’t let it go.

Because—despite however much I wanted to believe otherwise—I could do something.

After a while, I pulled myself up from the worn mattress at the corner of this little run-down apartment Bucky scrounged up. The kitchen was small and empty, save for the few energy bars we’d thrown in our packs and the leftover kitchen utensils left by the previous tenants.

I cracked a few eggs into a yellow bowl, stirring them up with some cheese and pepper. I sat a frying pan on the burner and waited for it to heat.

“You don’t gotta cook.”

Not looking up from the spatula under the eggs, I huffed. “You’re gonna take care of yourself, okay? Eat. We’ve got enough for a couple days. Go to the market though, okay? Don’t lock yourself up in here. You’re not gonna do anything—”

“ _Reckless_? You’re really warning me not to be reckless right now? That’s rich.”

Swallowing back my words, I sighed and continued to focus on the eggs. I kept my eyes on the food and said nothing more. Bucky stayed where he was on the other side of the island, writing notes into his notebook. He echoed my sigh a few moments later as he closed the book. I ignored him as he walked over to the fridge, instead focusing on shifting the eggs to two mismatched bowls. Bracing myself on the counter, I looked down at the bowls.

Two bowls.

Why did that  _bother_ me so much?

“Hey.”

I turned away from dinner and faced him. He looked uncertain, but…resigned. It was the look he always seemed to carry, as if the weight on his shoulders carried through to his soul. The guilt hit me like a truck. Leaving him alone was selfish. I was being selfish. And I kept telling myself I had no choice…because it was easier than thinking otherwise. Both of his hands came to rest on my shoulders and I didn’t look away from him. I raised my chin a little higher, to remind myself not to cry in front him. I didn’t let myself frown. I didn’t let myself smile.

We didn’t say anything. He just nodded as if a question had been answered. His hands dropped from my shoulders. He took his bowl from the counter and walked over to the other side of the island.

I joined him a moment later.

It felt more like a last meal than I wanted to admit.

* * *

“You’re making the wrong decision.”

My eyes opened. The room was dark, but I could still see Bucky’s face in front of mine. The moonlight was filtering through the newspaper-covered windows. Folding my arm under my head, I heaved in a breath and allowed the corners of my lips to tick upward. Beneath us, the mattress smelled of smoke and dirt. Bucky had grabbed it from the trash in front of a burnt-out building on the other side of town the day we arrived.

Now, I lay on my side facing him. My back was to the wall. He lay on his side facing me, ready to jump up and defend at all costs.

And this was somehow  _normal_ and terribly  _strange_.

“There’s not another choice.”

“Let them handle it.”

Why were we talking so quietly? It was only us there. Still our voices were barely above whispers. I had the near uncontrollable urge to brush the hair from his eyes as he watched me.

“The price if they  _don’t_  is too high.” Sighing, I narrowed my eyes at the juncture of his metal arm and his shoulder. The skin there was red and irritated. The weight of that arm made his back ache and his shoulders almost always tense. As long as he had that arm, he would never be free from HYDRA. Darting my tongue over my dry lips, I looked him in the eyes again. “As soon as I tell one of them, I’ll come back.”

“You think they’re gonna let you?”

He had a point. Other Nations weren’t as familiar with me and the ones that were…I could only hope that enough of the backchannels were in place for me to get through to them. I could only hope that I could find the right doors and pull on the right strings. 

Unconscious of my own movement, I raised a hand and brushed the hair from his eyes. Something about that movement seemed heavier, as if it meant more to him and meant more to me than either of us were willing to admit. I could barely breathe with the weight of it.

“What’re you gonna do if they’re all HYDRA?”

Sighing, I pulled my hand away. “I don’t know, Bucky.” 

I closed my eyes. 

“I don’t know.”


	9. Mistake

I should’ve listened to him.

I should’ve considered his warnings and worry as signs, gestures toward his immense knowledge of HYDRA and its many heads. But, like always, the Nations had stolen into my common sense. It was pride, over-confidence in the sense that I could affect the workings of the world around me. And as Hungary’s bullet struck my shoulder, I saw my mistakes clearer than the chaos around me.

God, I wanted to be in his arms again.

She ran. I saw her run. Then the building shuddered and a shower of glass fell over me like rain.

The smell of cordite was strange. I thought I had left it in the forties, but there it was again, like a wraith ready to choke the air from my lungs.

I pressed my right hand to my shoulder, trying to stem the blood. There were voices and shouts and sirens. But I was nobody in that chaos. A corner of the Nation offices most humans never visited, where the secure phone was. Where I’d been speaking to Egypt before— Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to my knees.

“Michelle! Michelle! Are you there?”

His frantic voice told me all of our security measures had worked. He was my Egypt. We’d only just confirmed as much when Not-Hungary showed up. My shaking hand grabbed the phone from where it dangled on the wall.

“Egypt?”

“You’re alive. Are you injured?”

“Sh-Shot. Left shoulder. There’s been an explosion. Felt like it came from between the buildings.”

“The Accords…Get outside. I am on my way. Trust no one else, Michelle. You know our measures.”

We’d been here before. We’d established our own codes, our own ways of knowing. Trust no one else. It was a small comfort. I grabbed my bag from the floor. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it should have. The pain in my shoulder ebbed. It was shock. Still, I stumbled to my feet. I’d been through worse.

“Where—Where do you want me?”

“The café. Do you know the one?”

Pressing my lips together, I tried not to cry at the sweep of pain that arched through my shoulder and arm. “I-I’ll see you there.” He hung up and I let the phone go. It clattered into the wall. Stumbling, I made for the back door of the offices, where the air was clearer and the windows were intact. The sirens and chaos were growing louder.

As I began to pass Ivan’s office, I stepped through the busted-out glass door to grab his left-behind overcoat and scarf, thankful he kept various gigantic jackets scarfs at each of his UN offices.

I wrapped my shoulder as best I could with the pink fabric, trying my best to stem blood flow.

No one would notice the wound or the blood under that too-large coat.

I nearly screamed as I pulled it on, setting my bag down on his desk for a moment as I stabled myself.

_I should have listened._

Something caught my eye and I stopped, the screams and cries fading away into silence.

On a shelf in the back corner, a frame sat— terribly familiar. My face was there. And his. We were smiling. His arm was around my shoulders. We’d been in Kirovsk. He’d shown me the aurora borealis for the first time and taught me to ski. I spent my Christmas break with him that year. He’d come to our family dinner on the 25th. My hand shook as I reached to take hold of the frame. The same one that I’d kept in my office. The same one they’d taken from my office.

I laid it flat and left.

The streets were in upheaval.

People were rushing this way and that. My limp became more and more pronounced as my energy waned and the blood loss took hold. The world was a blur of madness. People were flooding from the buildings. I hoped to get lost in the crowds. There were so many injured, bloodied and bruised and burnt. Oh the burnt…

“Miss! Miss! Are you alright?”

An emergency worker was upon me, worry bearing down as they looked to my dust-covered hair and disheveled appearance.

“I’m okay—I’m fine.” I waved them off. “Others are more injured. Help them.”

They did, seeing that I was upright and moving and breathing. There were others that weren’t.

I shuffled away from the complex, with people en masse. The café was six blocks away, but it might as well have been six miles. My body was not up to it, but I kept pushing until the crowds thinned and I fell into a chair on the café’s veranda, world spinning dangerously fast. My eyes closed and I leaned my head back into the brick wall, trying to get my bearings once again.

“Do you remember me?”

Recognizing his voice, I did not even bother to open my eyes. I felt him come to sit in the chair beside me, at another table. “I only remember the sun.”

“Yes, that is what I told you to remember.” Fingers were pressed to my cheek. They felt warm, comforting. He couldn’t be a robot. He felt too real. “We must get you to the safe house.”

“I need your phone.” My eyes opened and I looked at him, holding his stare for what felt like forever. His hand fell away from my face and he withdrew his cell, eyes seeming to harden as my shaking hand took it.

“Make your call. Then we must go.”

I dialed the burner phone we’d purchased at the market in Bucharest. He answered after the third ring, but he said nothing. It was wise, prudent, what he’d taught me while we’d been on the run. Never answer when you answer. And I tried my best to sound stronger than I was.

“You were right. I should’ve listened.” He still said nothing and despite how stupid it was, I wanted him to say something. “I’m so—sorry.” Egypt was staring at me. I could feel the intensity of all he was thinking. My eyes squeezed shut and I tried to even my breathing. Bucky had to understand.

He had to know.

Because I didn’t know what would happen from here.

“I love you.”

“Michelle—” I ended the call and gasped, barely withholding a scream as I handed the phone back to Egypt. He scooped one arm under my uninjured shoulder and hauled me up. I could feel the cool rage in him. I could sense it. I knew him too well.

My friend said nothing about the call. He said nothing about my words. He said nothing about any of it, no questions and no answers. Instead, he silently shouldered my weight until we reached a car parked three blocks away. A nondescript white sedan. It was Turkey that awaited us there. He took us to secure facility nearby, declaring with some humor that Egypt always had the greatest adventures with me.

I fell unconscious when Egypt huffed a laugh. My head had been on his chest. That’s why I remember.

When I woke up hours later, I saw Bucky’s face again. 

On the news. 


	10. Curious

“You haven’t asked.”

Egypt did not turn to me. He kept silent as he poured the coffee, sinking in two pink packets of sugar and a tiny cup of creamer. I sighed and looked away, shifting my attention to the television. Bucky’s face stared back at me, pixelated and wrong and guilty by public opinion. I felt the tension gnaw at my heart. A moment later, a cup and a hand appeared in front of my face.

“Drink it.”

“Nothing like coffee and steroids,” I commented with a mirthless laugh. The human doctor put me on a regimen of antibiotics and steroids. Since I awoke nearly eighteen hours before, I had not slept a wink. That gave me plenty of time to think.

A dangerous pastime.

Egypt slid into the nearby green-leather wrapped recliner. It reminded me of the hospital where Dad died in Nashville. Sterile walls, water color scenes, linoleum, and uncomfortable chairs.

“You’re curious.”

“I do not need to know.” 

He raised his own black coffee. Just before the cup hit his lips, he paused and looked me over. Then, his attention slid over to the television again. “I do not like this.”  This, not  _him_. A purposeful distinction, despite everything. My heart was grateful.

“That wasn’t him. Logically, it wasn’t him.” 

“You do not have to specify the logic, Michelle.” 

“It would have taken resources. We—He didn’t have any. He wasn’t in Vienna. He…He was in Bucharest, waiting for me to come home.” I forced myself not to think. Did he even know yet? We didn’t have a television. Was he safe? He would never be safe, would he? “It–It wasn’t him, Egypt.”

“How long?”  _How long have you been with him?_

“Since the decision was made.”

“And Hungary?”

“She knew. Got us out, took us in.”

Egypt said nothing and I said nothing. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to tell him about things he already knew. About SHIELD and HYDRA. About the chaos and smoke. Instead, I just kept quiet. I let him think it through for as long as he needed. He stood silently and moved to the nearby window, looking out toward the skyline, where smoke wafted into the sky from the UN. After a few minutes, he sat the coffee on the window sill and turned to me again.

“The LMD — Who was it?”

For some reason, my arms began to tingle. “Alfred. Elizabeta. Alfred first.” His jaw clenched, but there was no other sign that he was angry. But I could feel it. With Egypt, I could sense every change and his temper was currently a maelstrom. I took a sip of the coffee and pursed my lips, letting it burn its way down my throat. “Are they safe?”

“They are.”

“They were captured by HYDRA, weren’t they?”

“They were. We were infiltrated by an LMD Canada several weeks ago. He…procured them for a certain amount of time.”

Something felt very tight in my chest. They’d been captured by HYDRA. “HYDRA realized they couldn’t brainwash them…” Nations could not be brainwashed. Not entirely. Their people prevented it. No matter how many were brainwashed, there would always be some to resist.

“They created copies instead. Kept those captured in a research facility until rescue.”

He nodded toward the television, which kept repeating Bucky’s crimes. 

Over and over and over.

Egypt’s voice was measured, careful. “As far as we know, we are now secure. Our teams have removed internet traces. Contrary to what HYDRA believes, we are well-connected. While the United Nations handled the Accords today, there was another meeting taking place elsewhere—one that was to determine the role of Nations and Sub-Nations moving forward.”

“Why were you not there?”

He looked from the television to me. His face was void, bland. “Because it has always been decided.”

This wasn’t Egypt’s knowledge and powers at work. 

This was common sense.

“They’ll vote to stay invisible.”

“It is what they have always done.”

“Tactical advantage?”

“Something more powerful: fear.”

I nodded. In reality, they were playing the long game. Eventually, they would settle into obscurity as they always did. This was not the first or last time that Nations would be revealed or potentially revealed only to disappear again. “Why waste the time when you know the result.” My laugh held no humor. Egypt only hummed his agreement. I sat with that for a long moment before gritting my teeth and pushing myself to stand, held aloft by a newly procured cane.

He was on his feet immediately, hands hovering at my shoulders as if he wanted to push me back down. “You cannot help him.”

“I can’t just  _sit_ here.” I raised my narrowed eyes to him, holding his ancient gaze with steady surety. Everything was tingling. I tried to steady my breathing to make the feeling go away. “I won’t just sit here, Egypt. Not when he’s—”

“He is so far out of reach. Bucky Barnes is not someone you can save.”

We stared at each other for a long moment before a knock on the door drew our attention away. Although I anticipated Turkey entering the room, I didn’t count on the other person who stepped inside after him.   


	11. Responsibility

“Heel, Anubis. I’m not gonna hurt her.”

Tony Stark rolled his eyes at Egypt, gesturing at the way the Nation had situated himself between Iron Man and me. His attention shifted to me, eyeing the cuts and bruises and my heavy lean onto one leg. Conflict seemed to knit his brows together.

“Listen, Timeless, we really don’t have time for this hard-to-get stuff. Your Terminator boyfriend just broke out of containment in Berlin. Nearly shot me in the face, actually…”

He was trying to sound casual. And he was failing. As he spoke, he meandered toward the window, looking out at the smoky horizon of Vienna. Emergency workers were still sifted through the rubble on the other side of the city, looking for survivors.

Only a couple sentences and I already felt overwhelmed. Bucky  _had_  been captured. The reports from Bucharest were true. He’d been taken to Berlin and placed  _in containment._  It took all of my years to stay calm. In my chest, a storm was settling over my heart.

If he nearly shot Stark in the face, then the Solider programming had been initiated.

I took a deep breath to stay calm. Egypt angled himself to stay between Stark and me, shooting Turkey furious glances. The anger was roiling off him, a tempest, though his placid expression never faltered. Gently, I placed a hand on the arm closest to me.

“I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

Egypt turned to me as Stark said this. I held his gaze for a long moment _. You’re not going with him_. His obvious suspicion made me consider the consequences of what I wanted to say:  _Bucky is innocent and never—_ Egypt shook his head. Stark watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you and Yu-Gi-Oh here mindreading or something?”

Coming up short, I huffed a laugh. “Sorry to hear Bucky almost shot you in the face.”

“Yeah, me too. Now I’m rounding up a band of merry men to go fight the Stupid Idiot and his Sidekicks. I need you to come along for the ride. With any luck, you can…talk down your wayward beau. Do that and maybe the Cap’ll follow.”

My lips pressed together as I considered his words. To avoid Egypt’s stare, I looked away—toward the watercolor painting on the wall by the window. It was Turkey that stepped in while I thought, filling the tense silence. “Austria’s never been the coolest guy, Stark. He’s gonna kick you out eventually.”

“’s not Mozart I’m worried about. Alfred’s got that jerkoff Ross breathin’ down my neck. Don’t worry. Ross isn’t gonna cause you or the others any problems. He hates you guys, but he hates us even more. Particularly me.” He looked back to me. “Listen, I don’t really have time for you to drag your feet on this.”

“I’ll pass. I’m not a up to being your pawn. That’s exactly what you’re lookin’ to make me.”

“You’ve always been a pawn though. How’s this any different?” Stark nodded toward Egypt and then Turkey. “Present company very much taken into account and you still think you’re not a pawn. You’ve been a pawn since before your first visit to this beautiful country. Did they have good goulash back then?”

Back then. In Austria. The world shifted, a whole sick reality taking shape before my eyes. Stark’s eyes refocused on me again, obviously aware of how both Nations were now at-attention. For him to know… I had to fight to keep myself upright. Carefully as I could, I forced myself to calm down. After a glance to Egypt, I stepped forward and leaned heavily on my cane. Egypt was right behind me, a silent force of support.

It wasn’t fear or hurt that was gnashing at my guts.

It was anger.

“I don’t know how good the goulash was back then, Mister Stark, considering I was being starved to within an inch of my life.”

Stark’s eyes went wide. Clearly, that hadn’t been in whatever file he’d read.

“I wouldn’t use your trauma against you. I’d ask that you not use mine against me.” He had the grace to look somewhat shamed, breaking eye-contact with me to look out at the horizon again. I remembered his story. He’d been a prisoner of war. His own post-traumatic stress still ate at him. Like mine did as well. But his desperation took him too far.

“To be clear, in my previous statement I said I didn’t want to be  _your_ pawn. We’ve always been pawns for our Nations and vice versa.” Pulling in a deep breath, I considered my options.

The Nations would handle themselves. They knew of HYDRA’s threat. But Bucky…

“She will not be taken to the JCT.”

Stark blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes as he waved off Egypt’s words. “You think I’m really gonna hand over an actual time-traveler to Ross? Is your brain mummified?” He withdrew what looked like a phone from his pocket and started typing. Popping his lips, he made a thoughtful noise and then shrugged. “Okay, time’s up, Ms. Frizzel. I’ve got a kid in Queens I need to go see. If I leave now I can catch him after school. You in or out?”

“I’m o— ” Kid. Queens. School.

Peter.

Queens…

Son of a bitch.  

“I’m in.”

* * *

“Not that I don’t appreciate the extra company, but why exactly is your guard dog tagging along?”

Before I could answer, Stark turned around and released the steering wheel to look at Egypt, who sat quietly in the back seat. My mouth fell open as the car drove itself through the streets of Vienna.

“I get it, Anubis. You got a thing for Ms. Frizzel here. Rough that she chose some patchwork scarecrow with a murder complex. But you’re coming along on this adventure…why?”

“I am a Nation.”

“I’ll take avoiding an answer for five hundred.” Stark muttered as he turned back around and put his hands back on the wheel. “And I’m a human. What’s your point?”

“I’m her friend.” I turned to smile at him, knowing that he wouldn’t appreciate me saying anything. “To her, I am her friend before I am a Nation. If she is harmed by you…or by any of your colleagues…I will not be merciful.” It was said with such calmness that he may have just been commenting on the weather.

“Yeah? Then maybe dropping her like a hot potato after your secret was threatened wasn’t the smartest move, eh?”

Boy, the tension in that car was stifling. Despite my kneejerk to deny Stark’s words, I kept my mouth shut. A voice in my head agreed, sounding suspiciously like Bucky. Egypt and I hadn’t discussed  _that_ aspect of the past several months. It was a conversation that had to happen sometime. I knew what the refrain would be. He had to do what was  _best for me_.

Funny how that always seemed to be the way things were framed.

Egypt was just as guilty of it as any of the others.

Johnny…Alfred…All of them.

“The plane is self-flying. FRIDAY will get you there. When you land, I’ll have somebody take you to the hotel. I’ve got a couple stops to make in the next…thirty hours.”

“And…the kid?”

Stark’s brows pulled together, but he seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say. “Kid’s probably gonna be here tomorrow. Same hotel. Happy will let you know when it’s go-time.” The car approached the secluded airport on the city’s edge. Two planes sat on the tarmac, obviously prepped and waiting.

As soon as he stopped the car, Stark was striding for the plane that sat farther away. He waved over his shoulder, eyes cutting back to us as he climbed aboard. I felt Egypt come to my shoulder as I settled my weight heavily onto the cane. The metal felt…different.

I wanted my old cane back.

I wanted that comfort, if nothing else.

One uneven step forward and Egypt’s hand rested on my upper arm. Turning, my attention went from his impassive face to the phone in his hand, which he turned so that I could read.

**UNITED STATES OF AMERICA**

**ALFRED F. JONES**

Sighing, I made my way toward the aircraft. Egypt’s voice was steady behind me as he answered the call. America’s voice was so loud that I could hear it, even without being put on speaker phone. “YO! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? TURKEY SAID YOU HAVE MICHELLE.”

The stairs of the plane were awkward to get up. With each step, it felt as if my body was collapsing in on itself. In particular, my leg was cramping. Stark clearly didn’t design these planes with accessibility in mind. I tried to focus on that fact and not the irritation laden in Egypt’s voice.

“Where she is…is none of your concern.”

“THE HELL IT ISN’T!”

Once I settled into the first seat of the six rows, I saw the door automatically close and seal. An autonomous-sounding voice came over the plane’s speakers. “Please fasten your seatbelts for takeoff.”’

“TAKEOFF? WHERE ARE—”

After securing my belt, I took a deep breath and held my hand out for Egypt’s phone. He looked at me for a moment and then handed it over, busying himself with the belt as I raised the phone to my ear.

“Alfred.”

“Shelly?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“What—"

“I have my own issues at the moment, Al. Send my best to John and Thomas. Watch out for my family if I don’t make it out of all this alive, okay?” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Stark had mentioned Alfred had Ross “And…I don’t care if you’re my Nation…I will never forgive you if you hurt him.”

“Shell—”

Before he could say anything more, I hung up and handed the phone back to Egypt. It took all of my strength to keep my emotions in check. But I managed it. To his credit, my friend merely took the phone and turned it off. He said nothing and, for that, I was grateful.

We sat in silence for a long time, just like we did in the hospital. The air was different. That hospital was stale, sick. It seemed to stick to my skin, like a film. The plane’s air was heavier, but fresher. We had to talk about it at some point.

> _“—one of those that voted ‘yes’ to the motion. That should not surprise you. Your health has always been one of my top priorities. Even if you disagree with my decision, I stand by it. As your friend, I couldn’t allow you to come into any further danger.”_
> 
> _“—restrained him as we could, trying to keep order, but he would not_ listen _—”_
> 
> _“The truth of it is, Michelle…You were never meant to be ours. We were fortunate to have you for a time. I…I was fortunate to have you for a time. But I ask you now, as your friend…as someone who knows your soul and you, as someone who knows mine…Please, let us—"_

“I’m not surprised you agreed with it.”

“You should not be.”

“But you did it the wrong way. All of you did. And I’ll never see any of you the same because of it.” A red light was blinking next to the open cockpit door. Blinking, I looked toward the ceiling of the plane as we overtook the clouds and emerged into sunlight. It was blinding. “Your name is FRIDAY, right? Are you recording?” I knew the computer could hear me.

“Yes, Dr. Daniels.” The voice seemed to come from the seat.

“Do I have the authority to ask you to stop recording?” Taking a deep breath, I sighed, already knowing the answer. “On second thought, send a request to Mr. Stark to cease recording. It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“Request sent, Dr. Daniels.” The AI sounded amused. “And request approved. He did ask me to relay his advice that contraceptives are in foremost console. Recording has ceased.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned to Egypt. “I know you did it to protect me. I know Alfred and the others did as well. But I am a grown woman who can make her own decisions. You robbed me of my agency in this friendship, Egypt. All of you did. It’s the kind of thing that keeps happening again and again.”

“I acknowledge that.” I figured he would. “However, I made the decision I thought was best. We had every belief that HYDRA was not aware of you at the time of the information dump.”

“Your intel was wrong.”

“Our intel was wrong.”

“They confirmed their suspicions through Mattie?”

“They did. By the time we realized our mistakes, you were lost to the wind. There was little we could do. Once Alfred and Elizabeta were abducted, you were the least of international concern.” He seemed to consider something before resigning himself to saying aloud. “No human has agency among Nations, it would seem.”

“Perhaps the inverse is also true, but now isn’t the time to debate our natures.” I nodded to myself. Pressing my lips together, I thought over the last few months: the abandonment, the mourning, the healing, the flight from Brooklyn, our time in hiding. “Things won’t be the same.”

They couldn’t be.

“They never are,” Egypt said. He turned in his seat and leaned his head back, eyes closing. I watched him for a moment, tears welling in my eyes at the agreement.

Because it was true.

There was no going back, for any of us. It seemed, now more than ever before, that the Nations and I had parted in an even more significant way… As I closed my own eyes and leaned my head back, I recognized the power of what Egypt said to Stark in the car: he was my friend before being a Nation. While that was true for him, I wondered…I wondered if that extended to any of the other Nations and whether or not our relationships would ever recover.

Something in me said “no.”

* * *

“D-Dr. Daniels?”

Jolting at the familiar voice, I raised my head from the book I’d been reading. In the door of my hotel room stood Peter Parker, eyes wide and bright and too young. He looked around the room, face showing obvious confusion at Egypt’s presence at the desk by the window. I wondered for a moment if he sensed something off about the Nation. Despite his trepidation over Egypt, the kid bounded inside.

“He-Hey, Dr. Daniels. This is kinda weird. Do you— Well, I mean, do you work for Mister Stark? Honestly, I’m kinda confused. He brought me over here for…” Closing my book, I sat it to the side as he gestured wildly, as if searching the air for some sort of explanation I’d believe. “…for the Stark Internship! Oh! Dude! Are you part of the internship? Maybe a fellowship or something? Because I—”

“Peter.”

He stopped, looking expectant.

“Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

“Kid slept like a log.” A large gentleman entered the room, hustling forward to hold out a hand. I pushed myself up to grab it, grasp firm. “Happy Hogan. I work for Tony Stark. He said you’d be here when I arrived. We’re just waiting for his go-ahead.”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! So what— You mean, Dr. Daniels  _knows_?”

“It’s complicated, kid. Why don’t you just go get some rest in your room?”

“You just said I slept the whole way over! I’m seriously really awake.” I almost snorted at Mister Hogan’s expression. Peter turned to me again. “Dr. Daniels, you’re okay, right? You disappeared. Like, mid-semester, too. And you look, like, way different. Not in like a bad way or anything, but…You kinda look like one of those goth kids at the school, but…Like older, but…I—”

My attention shifted over to Egypt at the desk. He was actually smiling a bit, the tiniest curve to his lips. Still, he kept his attention on the laptop. 

Deciding to save Peter from his own rambling, I smiled. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”

“Wha—That’s ridiculous! No! No, no, no. I— I’m not— Why would I—” His shoulders sagged suddenly and he sighed. “How…How did you know?”

Laughing lightly, I shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

“From what Tony tells me you’re connected with a lot of dangerous people.” Mister Hogan gave me a once-over and an expression of disbelief crossed his face. To be fair, his boss was Iron Man and he’d witnessed an alien invasion. I was probably one of the most least remarkable people he’d met. “Really dangerous people.”

Snorting, I settled back into the couch again. “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.” Peter was about to speak again when I cut him off. “I don’t have powers. I’m not some kind of super secret agent either. I really am just a history professor from Tennessee.” Peter actually deflated a bit in disappointment. Bless his heart. Huffing a laugh, I gestured for him to sit. He did, immediately. It was so easy to see that he wanted an actual explanation. He’d have to wait a bit. “Peter, you’re okay, right?”

Before Peter could answer, a gruff voice interrupted. “You know what? I’m going to get some shut-eye then. Some of us didn’t get to sleep on the way over.” With that, Mister Hogan made for the door. My attention followed him until the door shut and I glanced over to where Egypt sat, his eyes also on the door. 

When he looked to me, I knew we were thinking the same thing.

_He left the kid alone in a strange city. Just—left him._

My knee-jerk anger skyrocketed. Plastering on a perfectly calm façade, though my nails were gouging into my palm, I turned to Peter. “Tell me how you got over here, Peter. Then, I’ll tell you where I’ve been all semester.”


	12. Again

Seeing Peter in the Spider-Man getup was jarring, especially when it looked more like what I remembered from my childhood. When he was little, my brother Corey wore a Spider-Man onesie to bed. I could remember him sitting at the kitchen counter, small fingers wrapped around a Spider-Man sippy cup. I could remember him unwrapping a Spider-Man mask for Christmas. For some reason, as Peter shifted self-consciously in front of me, I wanted to scream.

Even behind the mask, he was just a kid.

This kid didn’t belong here.

Especially not when Stark hadn’t told him  _a thing_  about the  _actual situation._  What had he been  _thinking_? “Mr. Stark said Captain America’s gone a little…crazy?” He said it with an upward inflection, like he didn’t quite believe it himself. “Like delusional or something?”

I pushed myself to stand. Egypt mirrored the action, sweeping himself off the bed. “That’s a nice suit, Peter.”

“Thanks! Mister Stark gave it to me. It…smells kinda new? It’s got a lot of pretty cool bells and—”

“Let’s go, kid! Let’s go!” Mr. Hogan appeared in the doorway, waving his hand toward the hall. “We’ve gotta meet up with them in less than thirty. Let’s go.” I shot him a look to say he better not take the same tone with me. He had the awareness to shut his mouth as I passed. He let the door go so that Egypt could catch it.

“So where are we going, huh? And why is Dr. Daniels going, too? I mean, I know she knows the Winter Guy, but she can’t, like, be in a battle, right?” Hogan was very pointedly ignoring Peter’s questions and I felt my irritation ramp up another notch.

“I’m not gonna fight.”

The clack of my cane on the stairs Hogan had chosen to descend seemed to press on the back of my neck. The marble wasn’t slick, but I still felt unsteady on my feet. My arm in a sling and my bum leg made me an uneven mess.

Egypt noticed, coming to my side. He didn’t take the cane and grab my arm as America might’ve done. He just lingered there in case I lost balance. His voice dropped low about halfway down. Peter and Hogan had already made it to the bottom and were heading toward the front door of the hotel. Spider-Man drew attention as he walked across. Changing in the hotel room was absolute lunacy. 

“This is foolish.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “They should really make this building more accessible. Get ramps, at least.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

Hogan looked back impatiently tapping his foot as I reached the first floor, sweeping his hands forward the door in a dramatic motion. I actually saw his eyes roll at my slower speed. Gritting my teeth, I lifted the cane and shook it at him. My temper flared. Peter, Bucky, Egypt— this whole damn situation and the pain in my shoulder…

“If you do something like that again, Mr. Hogan, I swear it…” I paused by him, looking up into his eyes. He seemed a little stunned that I was shaking the cane at him. “I will smack you upside the head with this. Am I clear?” Shaking the cane even harder at him for emphasis, I followed Peter out and to the car. The kid slipped into the back seat, drawing all kinds of attention for his costume.

Not exactly discreet.

I slid in after him. “Peter, I know you’re… hype… right now, but be careful today, alright?”

“What? Nah. It’s Captain America and Iron Man— There’s not gonna be an actual fight! They’re on the same team. I mean, yeah! Captain America thinks he’s got it all figured out and all that, but c’mon! Mr. Stark will talk to him.”

Swallowing at the Peter’s naive certainty, I glanced toward Egypt.

His head shook. “It will not be so easy.”

Peter turned to look at him. “Whaddya mean, Mr. Hassan? Mr. Stark said he just wanted to bring the Cap in.”

“And the Captain is protecting a friend and doesn’t understand the situation he is in. Stark may have logic, but the Captain will not hear it. Because he is protecting someone. Would you give up so easily?”

Pressing my lips together, I sighed. He really didn’t get it, did he? “I think the Cap understands perfectly well, probably even better than Stark. There’s more than international law at play here. We just don’t know the whole story. There has to be more to it. There’s always more to it.”

Egypt went to respond, but I turned to Peter again. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded, fiddling with the phone in his hands. “Hey, Dr. Daniels…I know you’re on the run and everything, but…You know your office is still there and everything, right?” I raised my brows, surprised. “Yeah! No, they totally still have your office and all. People leave notes on the door. No one knew where you went…”

“I never did get you the study guides for Decathlon.”

The car stopped.

My heart leapt into my throat. Peter scrambled to open the door, hurrying out into the bright sunlight. He turned quickly, glancing down at me and then over toward the tarmac. It was only then that I noticed the phone in his hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Dr. Daniels! You’ll see. Go talk to your guy! Maybe we can—”

“Get going, kid! Tony wanted you here earlier than NOW.”

Peter jumped to attention. “Got it! Bye!” He flipped, shot out a web, and swung around the building. I was left staring at the place where he disappeared from sight. My stomach knotted, coiling around the anxiety I felt. Somehow, for some reason, it reminded me of when Corey was deployed for the first time.

Damn Stark for bringing Peter into this.

“Tony told me to get you to the terminal. He thinks they’ll put ‘em out of sight. That’s the best place. C’mon.” I followed the blustery guy to some stairs and stared at his back as he climbed upwards from the tarmac. This jerk had to be kidding.

“We can enter over here.” Egypt said, holding open a door a few meters away. How in the— I glanced up to see that Hogan had disappeared from sight. Then, his head popped back out of the door above, a frustrated expression on his face. Before he could ask, I gestured toward Egypt.

“Elevator.”

It was just as Egypt thought, an elevator was just down a hallway and to the right. It was likely for staff, but going up from the bowels of the airport terminal, it didn’t require any sort of code or clearance. Whoever was already down there had some kind of clearance anyway. Seemed like a horrible weakness in their security, but I wasn’t about to complain.

We stood in silence while the cables inside the shaft screeched as the elevator came to retrieve us. I chewed on my lip for a moment before reaching a conclusion.

“I— I am not going to convince Bucky to turn himself in.”

Egypt looked to me, but I couldn’t read his expression. I stared right back.

“I just wanted to see him again…before I lose the chance to.”

“The Captain is making poor decisions with international repercussions. Stark has perfectly sound reasons to bring him to the United Nations.”

The elevator dinged upon its arrival. “Just like you had perfectly good reasons, right?” I walked into the elevator, turning to find him standing stock outside of it. No expression, a perfect mask of ambivalence, like he didn’t care about my words. “Don’t worry, Egypt, I don’t put all of the responsibility on you. Or them.” I had to get myself out of that mess. I clawed myself out of that mess. And only other person that helped me was— “I’m going up. I’m going to see him, with or without you.”

He didn’t move, even as the door began to shut.

Setting my jaw, I stood firm. I couldn’t say why conviction kept me from asking him to come with me. I wanted to.

Because…

Despite…everything…

The door slid shut.

It felt like the air had been pulled from my lungs and I collapsed onto the wall of the box, shakily reaching my good hand forward to press the “2” button. When that hand settled onto the cane once more, I gripped it so hard that my knuckles ached. I blinked back the tears.

I had to get a handle on it.

When the elevator opened, I was hit with a wall of cold and humid air. It filmed my skin immediately. Wherever Bucky was nearby, he probably heard the elevator and was watching it. I took a couple uneven steps forward, toward the large windows that overlooked the tarmac. I looked to the left and the end of the terminal and then to the right. One figure was knelt down the terminal a-ways, behind a moving sidewalk. But—

“Michelle.”

I turned and was pulled into his chest. My injured arm ached with the force of his embrace, where it was pressed between us, but I ignored it, pushing my forehead into the crook of his shoulder. My good hand let go of the cane and grasped his back, wrapped under his metal arm. Damn it if I didn’t want to cry. I thought I would never… “I—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t—”

“Shh, shh, shh. Look at me.” He pulled back, cupping my face with both hands. The tips of his fingers, flesh and metal, grazed the scratches and the bruise at my temple. Bucky’s eyes met mine. “There’s more of them, Michelle. More Soldiers.” His metal hand trailed from my face down my arm and then my hand. He held it. “We’ve got to stop him. Zemo. He impersonated me in Vienna, activated the Soldier in Berlin.”

The pieces were falling into place. 

Did Stark know any of this? They were trying to—

After reaching down to get my cane, he began to lead me toward where the guy was knelt. “What happened to your shoulder?” He tucked my good arm into the crook of his metal arm, obviously taking in every detail as he walked. The cuts and bruises, the arm, the aches that made me move differently…

“Got shot.”

He tensed. “By who?”

I gritted my teeth, focusing on the cool metal against my fingers. “Just before the bomb went off.”

He stopped. “Just before the bomb…”

I paused beside him. “I was there. The Nation offices were nearby on the first floor. I got lucky.” Sighing, I shook my head. “I called you after. And you were right. They knew. I… Even Egypt…He came with me. He’s downstairs. One of Stark’s men is also in the terminal.”

“After…” Bucky turned to me, eyes wide. There was a bit of fear there and he looked me over again from head to toe. “I thought—It wasn’t an LMD?”

Grimacing, I went to shrug and my grimace became more pained. Bucky actually flinched, like he was caught between comforting me and killing someone. The conflict was clearly mapped on his face, in the curve of his eyebrows and the set of his jaw. “An LMD Elizabeta too…It’s been a long couple days.”

“No kidding.” Whatever inner war he was battling, he won it. Bucky started walking again. “You’re here because Stark thinks you can talk us down.”

“You, in particular.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job, sweetheart.”

Smiling, I came up to the man kneeling behind the moving walkway. His attention didn’t even flicker to me, eyes focused straight ahead. A smirk did however pull at his lips. “ _Sweetheart?_  What is it about women and older men? First the Cap and now this jerk?” I had to smile at that, whoever this guy was. “So, what? Stark’s not above emotional manipulation? That’s good to know. Sam Wilson, by the way.”

“Michelle Daniels.” It felt utterly odd and he obviously sensed that as well considering the way his lips quirked up. I looked out at the tarmac. “Queens is here too, Bucky.”

Bucky’s head whipped around. “Queens is  _what_?”

“Queens?” The guy questioned before cursing. “Where is this damn…” He trailed off.

While I wanted to sink into a crouch just as Bucky did, I instead opted to move over to the closest bench a few feet away. If I got down like that, I wouldn’t get back up again if anything happened. “Spider-Man. You’ll know him when you see him. Don’t hurt him.”

Anger was taut on Bucky’s face. “Kid’s fifteen—he shouldn’t be here.”

“Fifteen?! What the  _hell_?” Wilson began muttering under his breath.

“He’s the other reason I took up Stark on this ‘plan.’ Stark put my student in danger. And I’m not standin’ for that shit.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and, for the briefest second, he looked proud. “Stark’s gonna rue the day, Michelle.”

“There’s Cap.”

They both shifted into high alert, moving to the balls of their feet so they could get up quicker.

“You found it yet? Hurry up.”

“I don’t see you doing  _anything_  here, man.” Wilson retorted.

Bucky raised his fingers to his ear and pressed. “Steve. You’ve got two inbound. I’ve got a friendly up here. She’s…” He turned to me and I nodded. “Secured.” Secured was a funny way to put it.

The two figures in the sky got closer and closer. Iron Man and War Machine (or Iron Patriot, or whatever he was called these days) landed a few meters from where Captain America was standing, waiting. If this didn’t feel like a trap…

After those three spoke for just a minute or so, surely too short for any actual conversation, Peter jumped in. His webs grabbed Captain America’s shield as he landed on a luggage truck nearby. I felt my stomach lurch and I stood to get a better view. I could see that the same webs had bound the Captain’s hands. Black Widow, recognizable by her red hair, stood a few feet behind the Cap. Peter waved his hand.  

“That Queens?” Bucky questioned with a hint of amusement.

“That’s Queens.”

He kept his eyes forward, watching the exchange with the eyes of a sniper. “Michelle, I wish I could— If I could stay with you…”

Bucky didn’t turn to face me, keeping his attention on the exchange outside. Part of me expected Wilson to interrupt with a quip, but he instead remained focused and level.  

“I know.” And I did. Better than I knew a lot of things. “I love you. Be careful and don’t let this guy win. I’ll…I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“There it is…” Wilson pressed his fingers to his right ear just as Bucky had done a few moments before. “We found it. The quinjet’s in Hanger Five, North Runway.”

Something popped out of nowhere, kicking Peter back as it—he—grabbed the shield the kid had stolen from the Cap. Already on my feet, I took a step forward, watching as Peter righted himself. Stark that son of a– An arrow freed the Cap’s hands. 

Both men in front of me stood. Wilson started running. Bucky immediately came to me, taking my face in his hands. For a second, he just held my eyes. Telling me all the things he didn’t have time to say. Then, he pressed forward. All conviction and determination. I closed my eyes, to remember it. To remember every second of it. 

One, two…

Then, he was gone, running down the terminal.

Chaos erupted below. In only a few minutes, cars were being thrown around like water balloons, explosions rocked the terminal, and a young superhero landed on the glass of the terminal. Bucky and Wilson were under where he’d landed. A few moments later, I heard glass shattering and a mass of red and blue flew into the space. 

There was a loud crash and I saw Wilson disappear from sight.

“You didn’t stop them.”

Looking away from the fight, I saw Happy Hogan standing with his arms held out and incredulity on his face. I sighed, taking hold of my cane and walking down toward him. 

“I never said that I would stop them, Mr. Hogan. Mr. Stark assumed, and I didn’t correct him.” The guy’s expression became thunderous and I stopped, looking out to see Iron Man firing on two people running across the tarmac. Someone was going to get killed if they kept this up.

“You just aided international fugitives.”

War Machine had drawn some sort of shock stick while Captain America was battling the Black Panther.

Swallowing, I turned again toward where Hogan stood, determination obviously set in his eyes. There were a couple zip ties in his hands. I scoffed as he took a step forward.

“You’re gonna  _arrest_  me? Go right ahead.”

Hogan stepped forward as explosion rocked the building.

“Lay a hand on her and you will no longer have a hand.”


	13. Friend

“—seriously okay! Look! Look! It doesn’t even— _OW!_ ” Peter yelped and withdrew, looking utterly bewildered at the lance of pain from his side. I withdrew my hand and stared, affecting a placid look. He demurred, lowering his head and scratching the back of it. “I know, alright? I’m just a kid. I should just—  _not_  argue? I just—” The kid deflated and held out his arm. I poured some alcohol into the wound again, pushing it out over the sink. “But, like, seriously— Dr. Daniels, I really am fine!”

“I’m sure you will be, Peter. But if your skin heals with gravel  _in_  it—"

“Dude, that’d be awesome. And it totally won’t happen ‘cause my body kinda rejects foreign materials like that.”

I didn’t want to ask about  _how_  he knew that. Instead, I just grabbed the gauze and lifted my eyes to the mirror. Though I was a bit surprised to see Egypt standing in the doorway, I didn’t acknowledge it. His watchful eyes were focused on Peter, observing him. Peter fidgeted, obviously aware of the attention.

“So, uh—Dr. Daniels…Is he, like, your boyfriend or something?”

A smile pulled at my lips until I couldn’t help but to grin at the reflection. Egypt held my gaze for a long moment before minutely shrugging as he leaned into the frame. Shaking my head, I chuckled as I tapped the gauze into place. “He’s a friend.” With a gentle tap, I released Peter’s arm and he skittered away, looking back to Egypt in the door.

“He’s loomy. He looms.”

That earned an outright laugh from me as I packed away the first aid kit. Egypt had a bit of a smile on his face, a shadow of a smile, but I saw it there. He thought Peter was amusing, perhaps even cute. I spoke to my friend’s mirrored self as I threw away the gauze trash. “Peter’s right. You loom.”

Egypt shrugged.

“What’re you anyway? My senses are haywire around you. Says you’re a threat, but you barely move or say anything.”

“Silence never indicates a lack of threat.”

I passed by Egypt in the doorway, shooting him a look that questioned how he would handle this one. Though Stark was certainly aware of his nature, Peter was still a kid. There were risks involved in knowledge of the Nations. I knew that better than most. Then again, it wasn’t as if the kid couldn’t keep secrets. Should he really be burdened with another? Egypt caught my eye and everything in that expression asked me to trust him.

Entering the bedroom, I set myself on the edge of the bed and rolled my shoulders forward. Absently, I listened as Egypt spoke. His quiet timber was reassuring, familiar. Comforting. I held onto it.

“What I am is a very complicated notion.”

Peter stepped past him, sending me a comically questioning look. Egypt’s penchant for vague answers wasn’t going to work on Mr. Parker. “So, what? You an alien or something?” He spun around, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me you’re like Thor and that jerk who attacked New York!” My mouth dropped open and for a moment I forgot that Bucky was out there somewhere. I forgot that I may never see him again. I forgot the battle. I was just focused on the absolutely dumbfounded expression on Egypt’s face.

The laughter built up more as Egypt raised a hand to rest over his eyes, a sure sign that he just  _didn’t know how to respond_  to that. Finally, with a longsuffering (and slightly amused) tone, he answered: “No.”

I fell back onto the bed and laughed. I could feel both sets of eyes on me as I giggled, tearing up from the effort. My shoulder was aching terribly and my leg was drawing, but that couldn’t take away from Egypt’s expression.

That was going to be with me for a while.

Bless his heart.

“I have higher standards.”

“Higher…standards?” Peter questioned, utterly confused.

“The pantheon of Asgard is hardly the most powerful.”

Jerking my head up, I looked at Egypt, incredulous. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as he walked to the desk, settling himself at his laptop. He opened it, looking particularly smug. Peter was glancing between us, eyes wide and confused. I sat up fully and Egypt studiously focused on the computer screen. “Are you really  _shading_ Lukas right now?”

Innocent. He was trying to look  _innocent_. “I am being truthful.”

“You’re being petty.”

My friend hummed, but said nothing, looking back to his computer screen.

Shaking my head, I turned back to Peter. My mouth began to open when there was a knock at the hotel room door. Egypt was past me and Peter before I could even begin to stand. The kid looked between me and the door before stepping forward to offer an arm.

“Look, I’m not a threat, okay? I’m just here for the kid.” Happy Hogan’s voice drew my attention to the entryway. He looked worn, tired, and just…His eyes were puffy and concern lanced through my chest. Despite my dislike of the man, I recognized the heartbreak in his eyes. He uncertainly looked between Egypt and Peter and me. When his attention finally landed on me, there was an obvious dislike. “C’mon, kid.”

“What happened?”

He seemed to bite the inside of his cheek before his anger seemed to get the better of his self-control. “You wanna know what happened, lady? Your buddy just ruined a man’s life. Falcon— Look, stay in this room, get out of here, whatever. I don’t care. Just stay away from Tony. Get over here, kid.” I felt Peter’s hand tighten on my arm. My attention skittered to Egypt for confirmation.

I could see the muscles in his jaw working and that was all I needed.

“Tony doesn’t know the whole story, Mr. Hogan. I told you. There are other Soldiers. There was a guy named Zemo. He impersonated Bucky. That’s what they’re going to—I told you when—”

“Did Cap’s buddy tell you that? Yeah? After how many rounds?”

It took me a moment, but when it clicked, I felt sick. Stiffening, I tried to release Peter’s arm, but a vice-like grip kept me in place and I looked toward Peter to see him glaring. Egypt was moving in the next second, forearm pressed against Hogan’s throat as he was bodily lifted and slammed into the wall.

“Don’t—”

I couldn’t hear what Egypt was saying, but Hogan was going pale as he struggled to get free. To emphasize some unheard point, Hogan was pulled from the wall and slammed back into it again. I actually heard the sheetrock pop. Beside me, Peter tensed. When I tried to move again, to pull Egypt away, Peter held fast. 

“No, Dr. Daniels. He’s…He’s right.”

After a few more moments, Egypt stepped away and straightened his shirt in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Arthur’s mannerisms. That flash of memory sent a wave of melancholy through me until I shoved it into some inaccessible recess of my mind. It wasn’t the time to mourn. Not for them.

“Leave. Now.”

Hogan looked toward Peter, studiously avoiding me. “C-C’mon, kid.”

Peter looked at me, wide-eyed. I smiled, though I knew the expression was empty. Sighing, I shook my head. “Go on, Peter. You need to get home to your Aunt May. And make sure you—” He reached forward and hugged me. And there was something very sad about that hug, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Take— Take care of yourself, okay?” He nodded into my shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Dr. Daniels. R-Right? You still gotta help us out for Decathlon next semester.”

He pulled away and walked toward the door, where Hogan stood watching the exchange with a strange expression. I could’ve sworn he looked guilty. Peter stopped by Egypt and grinned, hesitantly holding a hand out for the Nation to shake. Egypt took it. “So, you’re, like, some kind of demigod or something, right?”

Egypt gave him a half-smile, raising his brows. “Something.”

When Peter stepped out of the hotel room and the door clicked shut behind him, it felt as if the veil had pulled closed once more. My shoulders rolled forward, the dull ache now becoming a sharp pain. I sank onto the edge of the bed once more, the events of the day catching up. I stared at where the plush burgundy carpet met the wall.

They’d made it out of the airport.

Someone was hurt.

And I couldn’t help but to feel guilty for feeling grateful Bucky made it out when someone else was hurt. But…

Now, all I could do was wait.

“You cannot run with him forever.”

Raising my head, I chewed on my lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I’m the one who gets to decide that.” Nodding at my own words, I tried not to grit my teeth. I closed my eyes for a moment and then reopened them, trying to center myself. “If he comes back, I’m staying with him. I want to stay with him.” At the concern in my friend’s eyes, I smiled through the urge to cry. All of the adrenaline was gone. Now, things were just heavy. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but…Egypt, I love him.”

He looked over at the window and the overcast sky outside. He breathed out. I wondered, not for the first time, what he was thinking. “I…I will support you.” After a long moment, Egypt looked back at me. There was some reassurance there as he stepped forward and rested his right hand on my right shoulder. “As I have always done, for better or worse, I will support you.”

Staring up at him, I could see how much effort this was taking— for him to hold back, to support without overpowering, to trust me, to accept this. He was still trying to protect me. My friend. Lifting my hand, I rested it on his.


	14. There

She held the same kind of power and wisdom in her that China did. However, where China’s seemed weary and worn in his bearing, this woman was proud. I could feel it somehow, could sense it in the set of the woman’s shoulders. She felt older. So much older than her seemingly twenty-something looks. Her dark eyes were analyzing Egypt, looking him over as if here were an ant on her boot. Egypt clearly submitted himself to this scrutiny, opening his palms out to his sides. There seemed to be some respect there.

This woman was an Ancient Nation.

And, as if just noticing me, she turned and looked me over. I wondered for a moment what she saw. “You are Michelle Daniels.”

“I am.”

She nodded, glancing back to where two other black women stood at the doorway. “I have been told that you are aware of our kind— the Nations.” I glanced to Egypt and back to her again, watching as she moved to sit on the modular sofa of Egypt’s apartment. Egypt’s hand pressed against my shoulder. “You were not an easy woman to find. Egypt takes his role seriously, it seems.”

“I do.” Egypt’s response held a note of question, as if asking how and why she found me.

“If you have a question, old friend, ask it.”

“What are you doing here?”

She smiled. “Always straight to the point.” Her attention shifted to me and she gestured for me to sit down. It was strange, the kind of power she held. This was Egypt’s home, but she seemed to command the space. I sank onto the chaise. Egypt followed suit, leaning on the ledge of the arm behind me. I was more than aware that this put him in a more strategic defensive position. “I am Wakanda.”

The breath seemed to be pushed from my lungs.

There’d been rumors for  _years_  that a Black Panther movie was coming. If Wakanda existed here, then that meant that a movie must have happened. And in the weeks since the attack on the United Nations, I’d read more and more news articles about Wakanda’s former king and their long-kept secrets. The way they protected themselves from colonization. I watched as her chin rose and she analyzed my reaction.

“It seems the rumors are true.”

“She has been through much.” Egypt’s warning tone had me turning to look up at him. He didn’t look away from Wakanda, holding her stare long enough to make his point.

“I did not come to harm her, Egypt.”

“You also do not make pointless trips outside of your borders, Wakanda.”

Wakanda huffed, tossing dreadlocks over her shoulder. “That was centuries ago. You’re still holding a grudge?” Very pointedly ignoring Egypt’s look, she focused on me once more, shifting to the edge of her sofa. Her elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward to study me. To scrutinize me. Her eyes only vaguely lingered on my sling and the cane before she shrugged. “He is right. I do not make pointless trips. I came here to speak to you. To understand you. And, if I like what I find, to offer an opportunity.”

“Why not one of your Dora Milaje?”

“You are  _very_  talkative today, my friend.” Wakanda shot back.

I couldn’t help but to smile. She was right. Egypt was speaking more than usual. Before he could respond, I stepped in: “I’m happy to answer any questions I can.” Beside me, Egypt tensed. Wakanda laughed, gesturing broadly as she sat back and seemingly relaxed into the cushions. When I happened to glance to the door where the guards were standing, I saw one roll her eyes.

“You are given the choice between your Nation and your lover. Who do you choose?”

A flash of nerves flooded over me, rippling down my arms until my hands tingled. To hide the way my fingers quivered, I gripped the edge of my sling. It felt as if my whole abdomen had been charged. Choosing between my Nation and myself was an easy one. I’d already done it, hadn’t I? I was still doing it. Lover though? I didn’t have one and yet…Still, I held Wakanda’s stare and uneasily lifted my chin.

“I—”

Then, I stopped. I looked away from her, staring at the fringe of the carpet.

“I don’t know.” Raising my head, I looked right back at her again. She raised her brows. “That’s…that’s the most honest answer I could give. I can’t know until I’m in the situation. And I hope that never happens.”

“That’s very naïve.”

“It is.” I nodded.

It was achingly, terribly naïve.

I thought I’d lost all of my naivete years ago. When I realized I’d never see my family again. When I realized I would never get home. When I’d seen friends killed. When I’d been tortured.

“You study history. You teach it.”

“I do.”

“Do you teach colonialism?”

“I do.”

She sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “You are a colonizer.”

I nodded. She was stating facts, not making an accusation. Though I wanted to tell her how and why I understood that, I bit my tongue. Me explaining my own coloniality? To Wakanda? That would be so insulting and disrespectful. So, I let it sit between us.

Wakanda watched me for a long moment before she chuckled. Then, that chuckle broke out into outright laughter and she looked up at Egypt. “At least she is a white woman aware of her own whiteness.”

“My Nation only exists because of colonization.”

“Indeed, he does.” She pursed her lips before leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “I have heard that you once struck Spain with a baseball bat. Is this true?”

 _Where in the world did she—_  “I…I…” Panicked, I looked up at Egypt for guidance. His eyes never left the other Nation, who was looking more and more amused by the second. Pushing down the rush of adrenaline and fear, I swallowed and shakily nodded.

With a grin, she waved her hand toward the guards. One left her position at the right side of the door and approached with what looked to be a data pad of some kind. She pressed a few glowing images before handing it out to me. “My young prince brought home a couple strays. I believe one of them is yours.”

Bucky. His face was clean, but gaunt. His hair was clean and there was a small cut on his cheek.

But he was alive.

Sucking in a breath, I jerked my head around to stare at Egypt before looking to Wakanda for an explanation.

She held up both hands. “I cannot say more. That stray has many enemies.”

My fingers grasped the edge of the pad so hard they began to ache and I looked back down at the data pad. At least he was alive and safe. That was all I could ask for. It was all I had prayed for. Pulling in a quivering breath, I looked back at the Nation who had taken him in. “Thank you,” I breathed out.

Wakanda hummed, eyeing me. She was analyzing me again. Weighing her options. She gave Egypt a spare glance before shrugging. “You, too, have many enemies. I know a great deal about you, Michelle Daniels. I know you hold Egypt’s confidence. He is a difficult Nation to impress.” I could feel Egypt’s internal scoff, though he never many any indication otherwise. “I can offer you an option.”

“She is being tracked by HYDRA.”

“You think I do not know that,  _ubhuti_?”

Egypt shrugged, rising up from where he was sitting. “She will go nowhere without me.”

She waved him off. I’d never seen Egypt so easily dismissed. If it wasn’t for the serious situation, I might’ve found it amusing that he was so obviously irritated. “This woman can make her own decisions, can she not? You are being given a rare privilege, Dr. Daniels. You may enter the borders of Wakanda and take refuge there.” My mouth dropped open and she smiled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We have excellent security so your watchdog Nation will not need to mind you there.”

“Wakanda.”

“Egypt.” She rose from her seat and I followed the action, using my good arm to push myself up and steady on my cane. “You can come along with her. After all, it has been…many years…since you last  _visited._ ” If he wasn’t tense before, Egypt’s entire body seemed to go rigid. “As for you, Dr. Daniels, you—”

“Could I work while I’m there?”

She stopped short, eyes sharpening. I wasn’t sure if it was my interruption or my assumption that there were jobs to be had. But… She took a step forward and I was reminded how tall she was compared to me. She scrutinized me one more time before setting her left hand on my right shoulder. The grasp was reassuring and warm. “I am sure we can find something for you to do.” Wakanda cast a glance over to Egypt. He stared back, but I could see the defeat there in his dark eyes. “Come,  _ubhuti,_ it will not be that bad.”

* * *

“You look supremely uncomfortable.”

I sank down onto the seat next to Egypt. Somehow, I had spoken to Wakanda for much of the flight as she told me about the various communities around the capital city and the cultural influences in Wakanda. But Egypt had remained at the back of the transport. Even without much expression, I could see how uncomfortable he was. Finally, it seemed his mood had gotten on Wakanda’s last nerve. She shooed me off to speak with  _that annoying brat_  before arrival.

“You know why I decided this.”

“To see him.”

My breath caught in my throat and a turned, completely stunned to see how serious his expression was.

“No! Are you—What the— That’s not why I chose this.”

He didn’t look at me.

“Egypt. Egypt, seriously. Are you sure you’re my best friend right now? You’re not an LMD?”  _That_ got him to look at me. “I chose this because, at some point, HYDRA is going to find me. And, as much confidence as I have in you, you won’t be able to stop them.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You are protecting me.”

“Yes. Of course. Egypt, our luck was going to run out. And the Egyptian people…You can’t stay with me forever. You have responsibilities.”

His eyes shut again and he leaned his head back. The anger that I’d felt before melted away and his calmness seemed to return. I settled onto the seat and leaned back as well, sighing. It’d been weeks since we’d travelled to Egypt’s home in Cairo. He thought he was being secretive, but I knew that a HYDRA cell had been thwarted in Banha, our stopover location until we could secure a safe route to his safe house.

He and I both knew it was a matter of time.

“Dr. Daniels, come here.”

Pushing myself up, I made my way to the front of the transport where Wakanda was flying. The two Dora Milaje cast me looks and then glanced to each other with small smiles. I held the back of Wakanda’s chair to steady myself as the floor beneath me shifted to the right.

“There I am.”

A thrill of fear hit me as I realized what we were flying toward. A mountain. My hand gripped the back of the chair. Wakanda was chuckling. And, so too were the Dora Milaje. One hiding her amusement by lowering her face toward the floor while the other outright giggled. Egypt arrived to my side and gave me a small smile, helping me to brace as he looked out at the approaching mountain. If he wasn’t flinching or even slightly worried, then…The tension eased out of my shoulders, but my heart still thundered in my chest.

“This is a game she rarely gets to play.”

“Do not ruin my fun,  _ubhuti._ ”

Just as we were about to hit the trees, they melted away like images broken into pixels as we passed through into the airspace above a city that hadn’t been there before. I gasped, leaning forward to get a better look.

“This is Birnin Zana. My capital.” She stated proudly, raising her chin.

The city was beautiful, nestled in the emerald valley we descended into— the glass of the city reflected the green of the trees. My stomach lifted as we sailed downward, between spiraling buildings and over an orange-painted river. Wood not only decorated the buildings, but functioned in the actual architecture in ways I’d only seen in the most cutting-edge engineering programs. Even then, not to this incredible level. As we continued into the city, I looked to Egypt.

His eyes were wide.

He, somehow, had not been expecting this.

“Wakanda, this is…”

“I had to protect myself somehow.”

Egypt’s hand tightened on my good shoulder and I lifted my hand to rest atop his. “Protect yourself?”

“There was nothing I could do at the time, but protect myself,  _ubhuti._ ”

The transport sank onto a landing pad and Wakanda turned, glancing at me with a small smile before standing. She sat a hand on Egypt’s shoulder.

“There are actions I regret. But that is all changing soon. I can feel it in my bones.”

She led the way down the stairs and I tried not to cringe with every downward step as my leg throbbed and my right hand desperately clung to the railing. Part of me felt guilty toward the woman behind me, until she tapped my shoulder. I looked back to her and she gave me a kind smile, offering a hand. I took it as she edged around me. “I am Nareema.”

“I’m Michelle. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Egypt handed me my cane at the bottom of the stairs, looking ashamed at having gone down without helping me. I noticed his unease and patted his arm, catching his eye. My head shook. Nearly fifty feet away, Wakanda was laughing and throwing a familiar arm around a young woman’s thin shoulders. Throat going a bit dry at the older woman standing nearby smiling, I leaned over to Egypt.

“Is that Queen Ramonda?”

“It is.”

“What do I do?”

My friend chuckled and cast me an amused look. “Do not bow. Simply greet her. You have met royalty before.”

Ignoring the stutter of my heart, I stopped and forced a smile as Wakanda turned around with her arm still about the young woman’s shoulders. “Princess, this is the woman you sent me to get.” Just before I could get out a greeting, the queen’s eyes widened in realization and she turned.

“Shuri!” The queen exclaimed, with all the admonishment of a mother. “You cannot send Wakanda to do your bidding!”

The teen looked offended, mouth dropping open. “I did not order Wakanda to go anywhere. She volunteered. But Wakanda usually agrees with me, so it works out all the same.” Her bright eyes fell on me and she gave me an assessing look, arms crossing over her t-shirt. “You are still not healed?” She narrowed her eyes at my shoulder, stepping forward to press a hand against it. I bit back a yelp. “What kind of—”

“Shuri. Introductions. Now.”

“Mother—”

“Wakanda has brought outsiders into her borders. You do not think that we should know their names? Or that they should know ours?” The underlying  _what kind of child_  was obvious and I couldn’t help but to smile at Queen Ramonda’s tone. That tone reminded me of my mother. “Shuri.”

“I am Shuri.” She gestured toward the queen with a nonchalant hand that earned her a raised eyebrow from her mother. “This is my mother, the Queen Mother Ramonda. That’s Ayo. Over there, looking very angry and approaching very quickly is T’Challa and I— Hello, brother!” She nearly stood at attention, but I could see the amusement sparkling in her eyes as the King strode over with a thunderous expression on his face.

His attention flicked to me and then Egypt and then Wakanda, who gave him a small smile.

“Explain. Now.”

While Shuri grumbled under her breath about “Action. Now.” orders, Wakanda moved over to the King. Her explanation seemed short, but emphatic. Despite her earlier joviality, her expression had become harsh and serious. By the end of the quiet conversation, his shoulder seemed to slump a bit in defeat. Even if he was trying to look dignified about it. After a moment, he took a deep breath and pulled himself completely into place again, taking a few steps over to hold out a hand.

“I am T’Challa. Welcome to Wakanda. While you are here, you have my protection.” He looked to Egypt. “Wakanda has told me much about you, Egypt. You are welcome here as well. Come,” he sent a particularly harried look to Shuri. “There is someone you should see.”

“Thank you for having us, your highness.”

“Just T’Challa is fine.”

Shuri came to my side. “I read your paper on exhibition maintenance and repatriation of World War II acquisitions. You have a problem with run-ons, you know.”

Egypt walked in front of us with King T’Challa while Wakanda kept to the Queen Mother’s side, leaving me alone with the princess. “I’m terrible at writing, but it’s the only way to get tenure.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Stupid colonial systems. Capitalist knowledge production and…” She trailed off, narrowing her eyes over me again. “You were shot by one of those Life Model Decoys.” I nodded, stepping cautiously over a step into the building, using my right hand outward to balance.

It seemed this was the final straw.

“We are fixing your shoulder! This is ridiculous. Brother! We are going to my lab first. It will just take a few minutes.”

“Shuri, it can—”

“You are not about to say ‘It can wait.’ are you, brother? We do not want to risk anything with the white boy upstairs when he comes out, right? If he sees her injured…”

She trailed off and smiled sweetly. The implications were clear. When her brother had nothing to say in response, she grinned and guided me to step onto what looked to be an elevator. When I caught sight of the queen, she was shaking her head while Wakanda laughed.

“Come on then.”


End file.
